#but as someone who struggles with vulnerability

[astrow0rldx]

PAC TAROT: Shadow Work

Piles read left to right. Really use your intuition for which one calls to you to read. This Reading will be a little different, because it's ai generated. But hear me out, it's extremely accurate. I pull the tarot cards, and questions and it makes a story using automatic creative writing skills. In the story format it should help understand better.

Pile One

You present yourself as someone grounded and nurturing, someone who has it all together—capable, reliable, and a provider of stability. You wear this mask of self-sufficiency with grace, offering support and care to those around you. There’s a warmth to how you handle life, as if you’re always the one others can lean on. Yet, beneath this persona, there’s a quiet dissatisfaction, an emotional numbness that you don’t let others see. You feel disconnected, like something essential is missing, but you avoid acknowledging it, preferring to maintain the image of having everything under control.

Deep down, there’s a fear of rejection and abandonment that colors how you see yourself and your place in the world. This fear stems from past experiences where you felt left out or unworthy, perhaps from moments when you reached out for support and were met with coldness or lack. That sense of being shut out has led you to withdraw emotionally, burying your desires and vulnerabilities under layers of self-protection. However, this hidden wound shapes how you move through the world—it keeps you from fully expressing the vibrant, fiery side of yourself, the part of you that is bold, passionate, and fearless. While you project strength, this shadow lingers in the background, holding you back from fully owning your power.

Your shadow comes to the surface when you’re confronted by people or situations that reflect confidence and control, especially when they embody traits you’ve repressed. These encounters stir something inside you, triggering internal conflict as your shadow self clashes with the persona you’ve carefully built. The lesson in this struggle is to reconnect with your emotional core, to allow yourself to feel deeply and openly once again. Healing comes through embracing the tension, acknowledging that inner battles are a part of your growth. By working through this, you’ll move toward a more patient and nurturing relationship with yourself, where you invest in long-term growth and understand that healing is a process—one that requires steady effort and care.

Pile Two

She finds herself in a state of suspension, caught between holding onto control and surrendering to the unknown. Outwardly, she appears strong, composed, and authoritative, someone who takes charge with ease and thrives in an orderly world. She presents herself as the one in control, the one who always knows what to do. However, beneath this confident exterior, she’s struggling with uncertainty. She feels stuck, as if the answers she’s searching for are just out of reach, and in order to find them, she knows she must let go of the rigid expectations she’s placed on herself. She wears the mask of authority, but behind it, she is deeply uncertain, torn between what she knows and what she longs to discover.

At her core, she craves connection—a relationship where she can feel deeply understood and loved. There's a romantic within her, yearning for a bond that feels effortless and sincere, as if she’s waiting for that perfect emotional partnership. But she’s haunted by past disappointments, memories of love that didn’t turn out the way she hoped. This loss lingers, making her cautious about trusting her heart again. She often revisits those past moments of grief, wondering what went wrong and fearing that opening herself up to love again will lead to more heartbreak. As much as she wants love, the weight of her emotional past makes her guard her feelings, holding back from diving fully into new connections.

Her fears and vulnerabilities surface when emotions become overwhelming, or when she’s faced with situations that push her to move too fast. In those moments, she becomes protective, holding onto her feelings and resources tightly, afraid of losing control or being vulnerable. Her instinct is to cling to what she knows, but there’s also a deeper truth: her dreams and fantasies about what could be are not just idle thoughts. They reflect her true desires, the part of her that longs to break free from her hesitation and embrace all the possibilities that life offers. To heal, she needs to release the fear of losing control, to trust that even if things are uncertain, the journey ahead is rich with opportunities—ones she’s fully capable of seizing, if only she lets go.

Pile Three

She is moving through a period of transition, quietly distancing herself from past conflicts and emotional turbulence. Her journey, both literal and metaphorical, is one of seeking peace and clarity after enduring a storm. On the outside, she may seem calm, as though she’s finally found her direction, but the waters behind her are still unsettled. Internally, she is recovering from struggles, possibly with others or even within herself. The tension and discord she’s left behind still echo in her thoughts, making it difficult for her to fully let go. While she appears to be progressing, there is a quiet battle inside her, as if she’s constantly bracing for the next challenge.

Her internal struggle centers on patience and the need to balance her desires with the reality of what she’s building. She has invested time and energy into something—perhaps a relationship, a career, or personal growth—and now she waits, unsure of the outcome. There's a restlessness beneath her calm exterior, a feeling of competition, either with herself or with others. She yearns for stability and celebration, for a moment when she can finally relax and feel secure, but she is deeply aware that the foundation she’s working on still needs time to solidify. Emotionally, she is tied to the idea of love and partnership, but her past battles have made her wary. Love feels both close and distant, like something she craves but is cautious about fully embracing.

Her emotional depth runs deep, though she doesn’t always show it. She is someone who feels intensely, yet she’s learned to control and temper her feelings. When her emotions rise, they are powerful, but she channels them carefully, maintaining a composed exterior. Her greatest strength lies in her intuition. She often knows more than she lets on, reading situations and people with a subtle, almost mystical understanding. But this also makes her guarded, as if she’s protecting herself from being hurt again. She’s been through many trials, and though she’s weary, she remains resilient. Her journey is far from over, and while the battles she’s faced have left her cautious, they have also made her wiser. She stands ready to move forward, but she knows the path ahead will require both patience and strength.

[ssa-dado]

5 - Antithesis

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader

Genre: angst, slowest burn in history

Summary: The BAU tackles a complex case involving international victims and cryptic messages. Hotch’s growing insecurity intensifies as an agent returns from an undercover operation, revealing his close past with you. At the hotel, you and Hotch have a heated argument, exposing hidden vulnerabilities and unspoken boundaries between you two. Hotch struggles with his feelings of being just a replacement and questions his connection with you. Rossi confronts Hotch, encouraging him to be the partner you truly need.

Warnings: Usual CM case stuff, grooming (it feels to me, at least. To someone wouldn’t but idc), angst

Word Count: 6.1k

Dado's Corner: the dreaded chapter, I've been working on it for a week and still I'm not completely satisfied yet. I had to use another OC character, I'm sorry if you're bothered with that, but even if I hate him with all my heart he will be helpful in the future to narrate Y/N's backstory. If this broke your heart, synthesis might even more

previous part ; masterlist

Hotch’s gaze dropped, the weight of your accusations settling on him. “I thought that’s what was best,” he murmured, the admission almost painful. “I thought… I thought it was enough.”

●

It was yet another early morning at the BAU, and as usual, you walked into the office to find Hotch already at his desk, a cup of black coffee in hand, looking as composed and sharp as ever. No matter how early you tried to get in, Hotch always seemed to be one step ahead and especially today, you couldn’t help but comment on it.

“You know, Hotch, that’s 76 coffees you owe me now,” you said, dropping your bag on your chair and crossing your arms, pretending to be stern. “Maybe it’s time to rethink your strategy. You could try showing up late, just once. Shake things up.”

Hotch glanced up, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I could, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, I have to keep beating you just to remind you of your constant failure.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the side of his desk. “Wow, Hotch, who knew you were this petty? I bet you’d stay up all night just to make sure you’d beat me here.”

He chuckled softly, not denying it. “Well, someone has to keep you grounded. Can’t have you thinking you’re invincible, partner.”

In the past couple of months, the term “Partner” had become a running joke between you two. Whether by design or coincidence, Gideon and Rossi kept pairing you together on cases, and even when they didn’t, you’d find yourselves seeking each other’s opinions anyway – you were desk mates after all, it was impossible not to rely on each other’s expertise. Yet the nickname stuck, a testimony that had made working together more natural than either of you could have ever predicted.

Your familiarity with Hotch’s desk arrangement had grown, too. You knew his precise system of organizing case files, the way he stacked them according to urgency, but today, something was different. As you glanced at his desk, your brows furrowed in confusion: the stack of case files was unusually tall, casting an odd shadow that didn’t quite match its usual shape. It looked as if something bulky was hiding underneath.

“Hotch, what’s with the fortress of case files?” you asked, pointing at the strange shadow. “Are you hiding something under there?”

Hotch hesitated for a moment, as if he didn’t expect to be caught in the act. With a slight, amused shrug, he grabbed the files and lifted them off the hidden unknown object – or the unob - revealing a thick book on architecture history.

You raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. “A World History of Architecture?! Didn’t take you for the type, I’m surprised.”

Hotch looked down at the book, his expression a mix of embarrassment and pride. “I picked it up after the Frank Lloyd Wright case,” he admitted, almost shyly. “That night we spent going over his designs at the library, I don’t know why but something about it stuck. I guess I wanted to know more. So I’ve been reading this during my ‘waiting for you to show up’ time.”

You smirked, leaning in to examine the book. “SSA Aaron Hotchner, secretly an architecture buff. Who would’ve thought? Next thing I know, you’ll leave the Bureau and go to architecture school, you would still owe me 76 coffees though.”

He scoffed playfully, closing the book and setting it aside. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to go that far. But it’s been... nice. You know - learning something just because I want to, not because I have to.”

You gave him a teasing nudge. “Hey, don’t underestimate yourself, partner - maybe one day you’ll be the next Frank Lloyd Wright of the FBI. Designing prisons, interrogation rooms, you name it.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I think I’ll stick to profiling, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Just as you were about to tell him your kitchen needed some renovation – so he could start with something easy – an unexpected way-too-familiar voice interrupted from behind.

“Y/N!”

You turned around, and there was SSA Peter Rogers - one of your closest friends you ever had since you were fifteen - standing in the bullpen with his easy smile and that overly confident stance of his, just as you remembered him.

“Pete!” you exclaimed, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you rushed to hug him, the familiar warmth on your body you missed so much made you hold on to him a little longer. “What are you doing back so soon? I thought you were still overseas.”

Peter shrugged with a modest grin. “Operation wrapped up early. Figured I’d come back and see what kind of trouble you’ve been causing around here.”. That smile of his had the ability not to change one bit since the first time you saw each other, causing you to travel six years back in time.

▪︎

It was the first day of your mother’s Italian Literature class at the university. You were just fifteen, juggling between high school and university courses, your hunger for knowledge insatiable as a shield from what was daily happening between the walls of your own house. You always sat in the front row, scribbling notes furiously, letting your brain disconnect from reality in order to lose yourself in the lyrical beauty of Leopardi’s poetry.

Peter had been sitting a few rows back, finishing his degree in linguistics. He’d noticed you immediately, you were quite easy to spot as you were visibly way too young to sit in that room – and if it wasn’t enough, you made sure to ask at least a question to the professor, at least once in the lesson, always being deeply engaged with the material. Hence why after that particular class, he approached you with curiosity.

“Hey, you’re not the typical student, are you?” Peter asked, leaning against the desk beside you. “You’re taking university classes while still in high school? That’s quite impressive.”

You looked up, a little taken aback by his easy confidence but not put off. “Yeah, I’m kind of…double-booked,” you replied with a shy smile. “I just really love literature. My mom’s a professor here, so she lets me sit in when I can.”

Peter nodded, intrigued. “I’m Peter, by the way. Linguistics major. So you must be some kind of prodigy, huh?”

You laughed. “No, not a prodigy. Just…curious. I love philosophy, languages, psychology, all of it.”

The two of you clicked instantly, and since that encounter both of you would always exchange notes, in order to make sure none of you ever lost a word said in the class. Peter became a sort of unofficial mentor, “Have you ever thought about profiling? It’s all about understanding people, their languages, their motives. With your skills, you’d be amazing at it.” He asked one day after class.

That was the very day you learnt what a profiler was.

▪︎

Peter greeted Hotch with the same familiarity. “Hotch! Good to see you again, man. I missed having my desk buddy around.”

Hotch stood up, shaking Peter’s hand with a polite but reserved smile. “Welcome back, Peter. I heard about the undercover operation. You handled it exceptionally well, no one expected for you to come back so soon.”

Peter shrugged, his usual modesty in place. “Thanks, Hotch. It was a tough one, but we got the job done.” He immediately turned his gaze towards you “Y/N, who knew you would have stolen my desk too”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, glancing at the two of you briefly. That “too” echoed in his mind, the sudden realization just hit that there was more history between you and Peter than he’d previously understood, founding himself feeling like an outsider.

Peter, ever observant, caught the flicker of something in Hotch’s expression. “So you know Y/N? She’s one hell of a smart cookie,” he said, looking between you and Hotch with a teasing smile.

You rolled your eyes playfully, brushing off the compliment. “Oh, please Pete let’s not start with this just yet”

Peter laughed, leaning closer to Hotch as if about to reveal a secret. “Did she ever tell you she can sing? Like, really sing. She’s incredible. I’ve heard her at a few college events back in the day.”

Hotch looked at you, surprised, taking in this new piece of your past. “No, she never mentioned that.

You felt your cheeks heat up, flustered by Peter’s unexpected praise – especially because you were both standing in your workplace. “That’s because it’s not important,” you said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory. “Besides, Peter’s just exaggerating. I’ve only been in the field twice with Hotch anyway, so there’s not that much to tell, most of my work has been here at the office.”

▪︎

A year ago, you attended a conference at the FBI Academy, and Peter was there as a speaker, discussing linguistic analysis in criminal profiling. It was the first time you’d seen each other in years, and the connection was immediate, even stronger than your days together at the university.

‘’Y/N is that really you?! You’ve grown so much you’re making me feel kind of old” Little did you knew that you would spend the entire evening catching up, sharing stories of your separate journeys still having in common your mutual love for the complexities of language and behavior.

“You’re exactly where you’re meant to be,” Peter told you as the two of you sat at a table, away from the noise of the main event. “I knew it from the moment I met you. You’ve got the mind for this work.”

You’d been touched by his confidence in you, feeling like the teenage girl he’d mentored all over again. “Thanks, Pete. But you’ve always been the one pushing me forward, I don’t know if I’d have chosen this path without your nudging.”

Peter’s smile was genuine, warm. “You would’ve found your way, Y/N. You always do.”

▪︎

The more Hotch listened to the two of you catching up, the more he felt that gap, as if Peter was pulling you back into a shared history that he hadn’t been part of.

Peter grinned, nudging you playfully. “Always aiming for perfection, huh?

You tried to brush it off, cheeks warming under their combined scrutiny. “Oh, please. That was a long time ago.”

Peter shrugged, turning back to Hotch. “But she hasn’t changed. I can see it in your eyes, you know?! Same drive, same brilliance. So, how’s she been doing? What cases has she solved?”

Hotch took a moment, his expression unreadable as he considered Peter’s question. “She’s been doing great,” Hotch said finally, his voice measured. “We’ve worked on a few tough cases together, a few high-profile cases. She’s brilliant, as you know, we’ve had our hands full. But it’s good to have you back - we can always use the extra help”

Peter nodded, his enthusiasm palpable. “Looking forward to jumping back in”

Before anyone could say more, Rossi approached, cutting through the atmosphere with his usual flair. “Well, looks like we’ve got our team for the day. Gideon’s out, so Peter, you’re coming with us. We’ve got a complicated case ahead, and I’d rather have all hands-on deck, we might be in desperate be of two linguists on this one”

Peter’s eyes flicked to you, then to Hotch, his smile never wavering. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The team’s arrival at the police station was met with a wave of unease that hung heavy in the air. The case they were stepping into was far from simple. Multiple international tourists had been brutally murdered, each crime scene marked by cryptic messages in different languages. This was a killer who thrived on complexity, and with every new clue, the puzzle seemed to grow more intricate.

Rossi led the team inside with his usual calm authority, his eyes scanning the room with the practiced ease of someone who had seen too many crime scenes in his career. Peter and Hotch moved in tandem, flanking him on either side as they entered the station. The moment they stepped inside, the chaos enveloped them like a wave crashing on the shore.

The police station was a flurry of frantic movement and tension. Officers darted between desks, paperwork scattered in their wake, and phones rang incessantly, demanding attention that no one seemed able to fully give. The space, clearly not designed to handle the intensity of a high-profile investigation, felt claustrophobic and stifling, the walls closing in under the pressure of a case spiraling beyond control.

The air was thick, not just with the stress that permeated the station but with the unmistakable grit of dust being churned by the old, neglected air conditioning unit overhead, blowing more dirt than relief, only adding to the oppressive atmosphere. Everyone was on edge, their nerves stretched thin by the weight of a situation they were ill-equipped to handle. Rossi could almost taste the desperation in the room, a palpable sense of urgency that clung to every officer as they hustled to keep up with demands they were never trained to meet.

Rossi exchanged a knowing look with Hotch, both of them wordlessly acknowledging the uphill battle they were about to face - not just against the unsub but against the limitations of a team clearly overwhelmed.

The lead detective, a grizzled man with a permanent scowl, approached Rossi, barely acknowledging the rest of the team. “Agent Rossi, we appreciate the Bureau’s help, but I hope you realize this is a time-sensitive situation. We’ve got international press breathing down our necks, and the mayor’s about ready to pull his hair out.”

Rossi nodded calmly, his authoritative presence immediately establishing control. “We’re here to provide a profile and assist in any way we can. What can you tell us about the latest victim?”

The detective began briefing but his eyes kept darting towards you, flickering with something between doubt and annoyance. Finally, he couldn’t hold back any longer. “I’m sorry, but are you sure you brought the right team? She looks like she should be at a college lecture, not a crime scene.”

The comment hit like a slap, and you felt the familiar burn of frustration flare up. You’d been here before, countless times, actually. You were used to your youthful appearance and academic background drawing skepticism, but that still didn’t make it any easier to swallow, especially in that particular case. Before you could respond, Peter jumped in, his voice carrying a mix of defense and pride.

“Detective, she’s not just some college student. Y/N’s one of the best linguists you’ll ever meet, and she’s cracked more complex cases than most agents twice her age. I’d trust her instincts over anyone else’s, any day.”

There was a quiet confidence in Peter’s words that seemed to force the detective to take a second look, though his skepticism remained stubbornly in place. Hotch, noticing the tension, stepped forward, his expression firm. “Agent Y/L/N’s skills are exactly what we need for this case. If anyone can figure out what the unsub is communicating, it’s her.”

The detective hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. “Fine, but we don’t have time for trial and error. Every minute we waste is another chance for him to strike again.”

“We’re all already aware of this, Detective. I’m sure you know that making my work any more difficult than it already is isn’t going to benefit any of us.” You finally had the courage to bite back.

As you settled into the briefing room, you felt Peter’s hand gently squeeze your shoulder, a silent but reassuring gesture as he said, “Don’t let it get to you.” You glanced at him, grateful for his unwavering support, and gave a small, determined smile in return. You were here to do a job, and you weren’t going to let some old-school cop’s doubts throw you off your game.

Once inside, the team gathered around the evidence board, covered in photos, maps, and printed copies of the unsub’s cryptic messages. Hotch and Rossi started dissecting the behavioral aspects, but your eyes were immediately drawn to the linguistic patterns.

Peter set up next to you, and the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, just like old times. “This one’s in German,” Peter pointed out, highlighting one of the messages. “It’s a proverb that loosely translates to ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,’ but it’s the context that’s strange. He’s placing blame close to home.”

You nodded, your mind already racing through the implications. “And this one in French, ‘Nul n’est prophète en son pays’ - ‘No one is a prophet in their own land.’ He’s building a narrative where he’s the misunderstood hero, vilifying his victims in the process.”

Hotch watched from the corner of his eye, noting the seamless back-and-forth between you and Peter. It was clear that you two shared a deep understanding of each other’s thought processes, effortlessly piecing together the unsub’s motives and the cultural implications behind each message.

Rossi leaned over to Hotch, his voice low. “They’ve got something, don’t they?”

Hotch nodded, keeping his expression neutral even as a flicker of something uncomfortably familiar passed through him. “Yeah. They do.”

As you and Peter continued to dissect the messages, the detective returned with another dose of skepticism. “So, what’s the point of all this? We know he’s targeting tourists, but what’s the endgame?”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his judgment holding yourself to punch him in the face, but Peter jumped in, his confidence never wavering. “The messages aren’t just random: they’re statements about identity, belonging, and betrayal. He’s targeting people who represent something he feels threatened by, probably linked to his own experiences.”

The detective was confused by the complexity of the message Peter was trying to communicate but at least he seemed less doubtful. Hotch and Rossi exchanged another look, Peter’s ability to not only support but elevate you was undeniable, and it left a lingering question in Hotch’s mind that he couldn’t quite shake, an unresolved history between you and Peter that was palpable to everyone in the room, even if no one dared to say it aloud. As the team continued to piece together the unsub’s twisted narrative, it became increasingly clear that the linguistic clues were the key to unlocking his motive.

“Here’s the first message,” Peter said, pointing at a wall covered in scrawled Italian text. “‘Chi semina vento, raccoglie tempesta.’ He’s quoting an old Italian proverb. It translates to ‘He who sows the wind shall reap the storm.’ Classic justification tactic. He’s blaming his victims for their own deaths.”

You nodded, running your fingers along the paper. “He’s using cultural proverbs to deflect responsibility. It’s not just about justifying his actions; he’s making a statement that he’s in the right, that the victims somehow deserved this.”

Peter smirked, recalling your sharpness from years ago. “You know, you’ve always had this annoying habit of being right. Remember that time back in your mom’s class? You corrected Professor Ricci about Dante’s theological influences.”

You laughed, half-embarrassed. “Oh, God, don’t remind me. I just couldn’t let it go.”

Peter turned to the others, Rossi didn't throw away his shot. "Remind us, Peter. I'm not going to let an opportunity like this slip from my fingers"

Peter jokingly cleared his throat. “Y/N stopped the guest professor right in the middle of the lecture and said,”

He made sure to pitch his tone up in order to mimic yours “While Dante’s work is often linked to the influence of Saint Augustine, we also need to remember that his beliefs were also shaped by the dominant philosophy of his time: Platonism, especially the Neoplatonists and Plotinus.’ The whole room was stunned, and Professor Ricci just stood there.”

Hotch couldn’t help but smile, picturing a younger version of you challenging a university professor with such confidence. Yet there was something more bubbling up in his blood, this was another glimpse into a part of your life he hadn’t seen, hadn’t known. It made him feel strangely out of the loop, like an outsider looking in.

Peter continued, still caught up in the memory. “You finished him when you also provided proof to support your thesis”

“Of course, how else was I supposed to-“

He immediately cut you off. “Early Christian thinkers adapted Greek philosophical ideas, particularly Plato’s concept of eternal forms from which the material world originated. This was quite convenient for the Christian theologians of that time, indeed this philosophical influence is evident in the biblical phrase - and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.' You had everyone in the room, including the professor, rethinking what they knew about Dante.”

You shrugged modestly, glancing at Hotch, who seemed both amused and thoughtful. “I wasn’t trying to show off. It just… bothered me that no one pointed it out – and because of that my mom forbid me to attend her class for two weeks straight. Pete, I’m still thankful for your notes.”

Hotch chuckled softly, meeting your eyes. “Some things never change.”

The team continued working for hours straight, but the frustration began to mount. Despite your and Peter’s best efforts, the linguistic puzzles refused to crack completely. The police officers were growing visibly impatient, and you could feel their skeptical glances as they hovered around the room.

One officer, who had been particularly dismissive, sneered as he walked by. “So, this is the genius team the FBI sent us? Still no answers?”

The comment hit harder than it should have, and for a moment, you felt the sting of self-doubt. Peter, noticing your silence, shot the officer a glare. “We’re not here to waste time, Detective. We’re here to solve this.”

Peter leaned closer to you, his hands grabbing your shoulders, speaking softly so only you could hear. “Don’t listen to them. We’ll get it, like we always do.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the creeping sense of inadequacy. Hotch watched the exchange, noting the way Peter seemed to know exactly how to lift you up when you needed it most. He wanted to say something reassuring himself, but the moment passed, leaving him feeling strangely sidelined.

The hours dragged on, and eventually, the team left the station to get some rest. At the hotel, Rossi and Hotch were assigned to share a room, while you and Peter were given the one next door. As you walked down the hallway, Rossi turned to Hotch with a pointed look.

“You know, Aaron,” Rossi said with a grin, “if I catch you working tonight, we’re gonna have words. You need sleep just as much as the rest of us. I’m serious when I say I’m a light sleeper, so I swear, if you keep me up with that damned desk light, you’re a dead man.”

Hotch gave a tight-lipped smile, appreciating Rossi’s concern – even if he expressed it in his own unique way - although he knew he’d never be able to turn his mind off. “Don’t worry, Dave. I’ll try my best.”

On the other hand, in your room, you and Peter settled in, and immediately surrounded yourselves by case files and coffee cups. You tried to solely focus on the work, but as the night wore on, the conversation drifted, after all it had been over six months since you’d seen each other, and there was a lot to catch up on. Peter leaned back, studying you with an easy smile.

“You’ve changed, Y/N,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “You’re still that perfectionist who can’t let a puzzle go unsolved, but… there’s something different.”

You glanced at him, surprised. “I don’t know about that. I’m just… trying to keep up, I guess.”

Peter reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear in a gesture that was both familiar and affectionate. “You’ve always been better than just keeping up. Don’t forget that.”

You found yourself caught between the comfort of Peter’s presence and the tug of unresolved emotions that you hadn’t quite figured out.

“Let’s go to sleep, shall we? I think we’ve done enough work for today” He winked at you as he placed his hand on the small of your back guiding you towards the bed.

“Oh don’t worry, you should sleep though. I think I might go down the lobby to clear my head for a bit.” You lied to him, but you couldn’t ignore your gut feeling telling you that there was something else you hadn’t considered yet.

Similarly, just across the corridor, the case weighed heavily on Hotch’s mind, and despite Rossi’s threat, he knew he wouldn’t rest until he’d figured out what was missing. Hours passed with Hotch lying in the dark, the puzzle pieces of the case refusing to align, finally, at nearly two in the morning, he couldn’t take it any longer. Careful not to wake Rossi, he grabbed his files and slipped quietly out of the room, making his way to the lobby to continue working.

To his surprise, he found you there too, hunched over a table with notes sprawled out, lost in concentration. You looked up when you heard him approach, unable to hide your surprise.

“Partner,” you said with a grin, noting his rare appearance in his white t-shirt, checkered blue pants pajamas, with the slippers provided by the hotel at his feet. “I’ve got to admit, this is new. Did Rossi finally threaten you into losing the suit?”

Hotch smirked, taking the seat across from you. “He did, actually. But desperate times, right? I didn’t think anyone else would be up.”

You chuckled, enjoying the casualness of the moment despite the late hour. Hotch spread out his files, his brow furrowing as he glanced over them. “I think there’s something we’ve been missing, there’s a pattern in the language choices. It’s not random. He’s escalating with each message.”

You leaned closer, your fingers tracing the messages. “You’re right. It’s chronological. He’s building something: a timeline, like each phrase is a step toward his endgame. It’s not just blame; it’s justification.”

Hotch nodded, grateful for the way your mind seemed to work so fluidly alongside his, especially in the late hours of the night. But as you continued to dissect the sequence, Hotch’s thoughts drifted back to earlier, watching you and Peter work so seamlessly together. The old familiarity, the easy way you bounced ideas off each other, it had been hard to ignore. And now, in the quiet of the night every sensation was amplified, especially the ones he’s been trying to brush off for the entire day, they stung a little more than he wanted to admit.

The ease of the moment was shattered when Hotch suddenly broke the flow of your thoughts with a wry comment. “You know, I’m surprised you’re even here working. I figured you’d be busy... catching up with Peter. He’s been flirting with you nonstop since he came back.”

You froze, your jaw tightening as his words sank in. The casual, almost careless tone hit a nerve, and you could feel a flicker of anger flare up inside you. “What’s that supposed to mean, Hotch?”

Hotch leaned back, crossing his arms, trying to mask the hint of frustration that was seeping through. “Nothing. Just an observation. It’s not like you haven’t been a little distracted since he got back.”

You stared at him, incredulous. The casual arrogance in his words struck a nerve, and before you could stop yourself, the frustration that had been building all day came spilling out. “You really think you know everything about me, don’t you? Just because we work together, you think you’ve got me all figured out.”

Hotch’s expression tightened, caught off guard by the sudden burst of anger. “That’s not—”

“No, let me finish,” you said sharply, your voice steady but laced with a quiet intensity. “You don’t know me, Hotch. You have no idea what I’ve been through or what I’m dealing with. You’ve worked beside me for months, calling me partner, acting like you’ve got me all figured out, but you don’t. You don’t know the first thing about who I am or what’s going on beneath the surface.”

Hotch opened his mouth to respond, but the sting of your words left him speechless. You were relentless, every word cutting through his composure. “You think just because we’ve been working together constantly, you’re entitled to know me? To judge me? But you know what, Hotch? You’re wrong. You don’t know a damn thing.”

Hotch’s jaw clenched, the carefully maintained façade he wore slipping for just a moment. “I’m not judging you,” he said, his voice low but strained. “I’m just trying to figure this out, okay?”

“Figure what out?” you shot back, your frustration boiling over. “The fact that you’ve been constantly analyzing everyone around you while keeping yourself locked away? You think that you’re the only one capable of reading people like an open book? You act like you’re open and honest, but you’re not. You insist on wanting to be called ‘Hotch’ on the job by everyone, and you think I wouldn’t catch onto that? You do that because ‘Aaron’ is too personal and ‘Hotchner’ is too formal. You straddle the line because you’re scared to be either. You’re terrified of being too close to anyone, yet you don’t want to seem too distant. It’s like you don’t even know who you are.”

Hotch stared at you, your words hitting deeper than you knew. You had seen right through him, through the carefully constructed barriers he put up to keep everyone at a manageable distance. He didn’t know how to respond because, for once, someone had called him out on the one thing he feared the most: his own inability to truly connect.

“I keep things professional because it’s easier,” Hotch admitted, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of vulnerability. “Because it’s safe.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Safe? You call this safe? You’re so busy keeping people out that you don’t even realize how much you’re missing. We’ve been partners at work, sure, but that’s all it’s ever been, right? Professional, compartmentalized, no mess, no feelings. That’s how you want it.”

Hotch’s gaze dropped, the weight of your accusations settling on him. “I thought that’s what was best,” he murmured, the admission almost painful. “I thought… I thought it was enough.”

You sighed, your anger waning but the hurt still fresh. “You don’t have to figure out anything, you said that yourself – I thought - It’s not enough for you Hotch, and not even for me.”

There was a long, heavy silence between you, both of you staring at the scattered papers on the table, as if the answers you sought could be found in the scrawled handwriting and cryptic messages. But this wasn’t something that could be solved with profiling or deduction. It was messier, more personal, and neither of you were sure how to navigate it.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “For making you feel like you’re just another piece of the job.”

You nodded, the tension easing but not entirely gone. “I appreciate your apologies but if you really want to change things up all you have to do is to agree to be vulnerable with me, that’s all.”

You turned your attention back to the case, pushing through the lingering discomfort to focus on what you could control. You worked in silence, each of you lost in thought, both aware that this argument had pulled something to the surface that couldn’t be ignored.

By the time you finally cracked the pattern in the unsub’s messages, the sun was beginning to rise.

As Hotch made his way back to the room at nearly 4 a.m., he was trying to be as quiet as possible, mindful not to wake Rossi. But as he slipped inside, he was met with the sight of Rossi already awake, leaning against the edge of his bed, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of amusement and disapproval.

“Couldn’t resist, could you?” Rossi’s voice was low but carried a playful edge, tinged with the knowing tone of someone who had seen this behavior from Hotch too many times before.

Hotch tried to hide his fatigue, rubbing a hand over his face as he set the files down on the desk. “It was important. I found something we missed. Had to double-check.”

Rossi’s smirk didn’t waver. “You found something, huh? Or did you just need an excuse to get out of this room and clear your head?”

Hotch stiffened, but he knew there was no point in denying it. “We figured out the sequence, the messages weren’t just random. They were chronological, like a timeline leading to his next target. We were close, but we couldn’t afford to miss it.”

Rossi nodded, his expression softening just a little. He knew Hotch was right; they were on a tight timeline with no room for errors. Still, he couldn’t resist teasing his friend. “You could have figured that out in the morning, Aaron. You can’t solve every problem by burning the candle at both ends.”

Hotch sat down on his bed, glancing at the clock, Rossi’s words lingered, cutting through the tension Hotch had been carrying all day. “I know. But you said it yourself—we can’t miss anything.

Rossi studied Hotch for a moment, his voice dropping to a softer, more serious tone. “You’ve been different since Peter came back,” Rossi said, watching Hotch’s reaction closely. “It’s like you’re working twice as hard, pushing yourself even more than usual. What’s going on?”

Hotch’s expression tightened, his usual stoic demeanor wavering under Rossi’s probing gaze. He knew exactly Rossi could read from his face what had just happened between the two of you. “I just… wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything,” he repeated, his tone defensive.

Rossi wasn’t buying it. He moved closer, sitting on the edge of his own bed, facing Hotch directly. “You’re not fooling me, Aaron. I’ve seen this before. You’re not just worried about the case. This is about Y/N, isn’t it?”

Hotch looked away, pretending to be preoccupied with the files on his lap. But Rossi’s words hit too close to home, and he couldn’t ignore the knot of emotions that had been building inside him since Peter’s return. “It’s not what you think,” Hotch said quietly, though even to him, it sounded unconvincing.

Rossi leaned back, giving Hotch a knowing look. “Look, it’s natural. You and Y/N have been working closely, you’ve got this rhythm. Peter comes back, and suddenly you’re reminded that you’re not the only one who clicks with her. But it’s not a competition, Aaron. You’re more to this team, and I’m sure you are to her as well, than a stand-in.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened. He had spent the last few months building a partnership with you, appreciating your insights and the way you challenged him. But Peter’s return had stirred up insecurities he hadn’t even realized he had.

“It’s not that,” Hotch said finally, though the weight in his voice suggested otherwise. “I just want to make sure we get this right. Peter’s good at what he does. It’s just… different.”

Rossi gave him a pointed look. “Different isn’t bad, Hotch. And you’re still you. You don’t have to prove anything: to her, to Peter, or to anyone else.”

Hotch nodded, though Rossi’s words did little to ease the knot in his chest. “Thanks, Dave. I know.”

Rossi watched him for another moment before standing up, his tone lightening as he made his way back to his bed. “Just remember, she was never looking for a replacement for him while he was gone. She’s looking for a partner. And you’ve already proven you can be that.”

Hotch lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Rossi’s words echoed in his mind, he knew he needed to get some sleep, but his thoughts were restless. It wasn’t just about the case anymore, it was about finding his place, about understanding what you truly meant to him beyond the walls of the BAU. As he finally drifted off, he promised himself that whatever happened next, he wouldn’t let his insecurities cloud his judgment. He’d be the partner you needed, and maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to fit into your life outside of work, too. If you ever let him after today.

[myun-saidthoughts]

12th House Synastry: The Darker Themes That May Manifest

I made a post about Neptune and 12th house synastry awhile ago (here is the link to that: Understanding 12th house synastry)

In that post, I explained how this synastry can manifest between partners, but I didn't discuss the darker side of it or discuss why those darker themes are present in the first place.

To start off, some of the more common dark themes associated with this synastry include deception, lies, addiction, and hidden agendas. This synastry also can indicate being the other woman in a relationship or one party may have a commitment to another person that the other party isn't aware of (such as one partner is married, engaged, or involved with someone else). If there is 8th house synastry involved (like Pluto aspecting inner planets or 8th house overlays), power dynamics may emerge, with one person holding an authoritative position. Age gaps or factors such as work hierarchies, status, reputation, social circles, or cultural influences may also prevent the two parties from publicly showcasing their relationship.

The reason these dark themes manifest is influenced by many factors, the primary one being the person's core nature. If they are spiritually awakened, aware, compassionate, or empathetic, the themes mentioned above are less likely to arise within the connection. Ultimately, who a person is at their core will dictate how these connections manifest.

I have read many 12th house/Neptune synastry stories, and one major red flag that stands out is what is often 'hidden' within the relationship. While this synastry can evoke profound, otherworldly feelings, there’s a risk that the person you’re pouring your love into may only be a projection of your perception of them. This is tied to how you view yourself, your understanding of love, and your willingness to be vulnerable.

This synastry naturally clouds and confuses the relationship dynamic, if you have natal 12th house placements, Pisces placements or Neptune aspecting your own inner planets then the influence of falling into the web of what you think is, instead of what actually is; is more likely.

For example, the reason you may be drawn to, influenced by, or dealing with these dark themes has to do with the level of commitment or love you're ready to process. You may consciously state that you desire a deep love, but if you look at your past patterns, you might notice that you often fall for the people you claim you want to stay away from. You may say, 'I deserve better,' or recognize that the type of love you're offering is not being reciprocated. While you may be consciously aware of this, you still find yourself in connections that reinforce the image of love you say you want to change.

This has to do with the fact that there are still subconscious self beliefs that are operating within you; these beliefs may be so deeply rooted in your subconscious to the point where you are not even aware of it, and the reason why these dark themes are able to manifest within your life is because the people you are choosing are reiterating the self belief you're "comfortable" with. I say comfortable because it's what feels known within you, this person creates a feeling within you and though they may logically be wrong for you in so many objective manners, the fact that you can feel drawn towards them is what is causing you to want them, especially if you struggle with emotional vulnerability, or if you find it hard to actually form feelings towards another. This person is (in essence) allowing you to form feelings because their presence/actions reaffirm the same self beliefs you've been dealing with throughout your life.

This type of synastry even becomes more nuanced when the 8th house is involved, oftentimes if you are not aware of your own self inner wounds this type or interplay can cause such chaos. This is especially true if you are choosing someone who wants to use you, or if they have their own inner battles that they ignore. In essence to stay aware of the connection at hand:

Look at them at face value instead at the value that you give them.

Stay aware and acknowledge the fact that their own actions and choices act as a true unit that showcases their true feelings towards you.

Understand that even though you're able to understand or empathize with their struggles doesn't mean you should justify their actions.

The feeling you feel with them is already sitting within you; if that wasn't the case you wouldn't be drawn to them in the first place. Therefore that scarce mindset where you may feel like you need them to allow romance in is only a facade that keeps you at a distance of receiving reciprocal love.

This again is an extreme case but I wanted to make a note.

Another thing I want to note is that with this synastry, you might feel an intense draw toward the other person, as if you’ve known them in a past life (because how could someone create such deep longing within you if that wasn't the case?) This might create the connection to be very thought-provoking, and the longing you experience can manifest instantly in moments when you're not with them; this might lead you to believe that you share a deep, once-in-a-lifetime connection. However, the person you are drawn to may actually be a projection of your own desires for emotional fulfillment, especially if they are an objectively lost soul struggling with personal battles such as addiction or ongoing affairs.

The reason why individuals often state that 12th house and Neptune synastry can indicate past life connections is that this type of synastry evokes similar feelings of longing, wishes, and desires. In my experience with both, I understand why people associate Neptune/12th house synastry with past life connections. However, this synastry often creates a sense of longing while leaving more questions than answers.

With past life connections, you may instantly feel a deep longing for someone you’ve just met—their eyes seem familiar, and their touch feels sacred. In contrast, when Neptune and the 12th house are involved, there’s a crucial difference. Instead of a sense of certainty, there’s more wondering, thinking, analyzing, and fixating. You might convince yourself that you know them by creating intense, otherworldly feelings within you.

In genuine past life connections, there’s an unexplainable, intuitive sense that you’ve met before, without needing proof or logical understanding. You feel deeply connected without questioning it. This is a key difference that more people should recognize. If there are more questions than an immediate intuitive knowing, the likelihood of it being a past life connection is much less.

In summary, the main difference with Neptune/12th house synastry vs past life connections is there's a "without a doubt" mentality that you've known them before. The main reason why theres an association with 12th house synastry and past life connections is because this synastry genuinely mimics the same deep rooted feeling of longing or what if scenario's. This synastry causes you to create feelings within where it'll feel like you two have been together before but that doesn't mean these feelings are rooted in the deep seated knowing of "I've met you before" like true past life connections are like.

(which is why it's very difficult to differentiate and I can understand why but within, you will have moments with them and if out of no where you feel "this has happened before" or "it's so easy with you" or if 5 hours feel like 10 minutes, then the chances of them being a part of your past life is more likely; and you can feel this way without even having any intense 12th house synastry with them, you don't have to have 12th house synastry with someone to showcase a past life connection).

That said, there can be times when you may be dealing with 12th house or Neptune synastry and you may consider yourself an open or healthy lover, yet still encounter these themes. You might fall for someone who isn't who they appear to be. Stories like 'We have been dating for two years, and he is an addict' or 'I am engaged, but he has another wife' illustrate this. These examples are extreme, but I believe can occur because this synastry can cloud judgment. That's why it's important to evaluate the relationship at its core rather than relying solely on your perceptions.

If you find yourself dealing with these themes or have dealt with them in the past, it's important to recognize that the other partner may not have any real love for you. This is why the 12th house is often associated with 'hidden enemies.' These individuals may not be hiding their true selves, but in your perception, the person they actually are is someone you haven't been able to see. Or in another sense this individual just held and hid parts of them from you, and because of how clouded this synastry can be, falling victim towards these connections is more likely (but like I always say entire natal charts and who the person is at their core dictates the severity of what can occur within these connections).

Another intriguing pattern in this synastry is the tendency to be drawn to darker themes, often finding yourself attracted to someone who seems in need of saving or fixing. The spiritual connection you feel may arise from a deep longing to help them, as their internal struggles compel you to give endlessly. Their internal struggles causes you to give and give which ultimately keeps you at arms distance within the connection. Especially since they can't formally give you the same love you are giving them, and this stems from the fact a part of you doesn't believe you deserve the type of love you fantasize or long for. That being said, the dreams you have about them or with them, and the coincidences that keep occurring could very well be reflections of the emotional fulfillment you desire, and doesn't paint the fact that you two are "meant to be"

This pattern can also be linked to unrequited love. When this occurs, it mirrors what I’ve mentioned before: you find yourself falling for someone you can't truly have. You become infatuated with the person you imagine them to be, rather than who they actually are. You create scenarios in your mind where you’re together, longing for a connection that has never existed. All of these patterns stem from a fear of embracing reciprocal love.

It feels easier to desire someone rather than have them; it's more comfortable to long for the idea of a partner than to actively choose someone who can choose you in return. Such dynamics are more prevalent when you struggle with emotional closeness and vulnerability. Selecting someone whom you subconsciously know won’t or can’t choose you can feel like a safer option.

I explore this concept further in my original 12th house synastry post, so feel free to check that out for more insights.

The main point of this post is to remain aware of your own wounds, self-undoing patterns, and emotional fears regarding romance. The self-giving nature you choose to engage in can create a block to receiving the kind of love you’re capable of giving to others, often stemming from a fear of being in a reciprocal loving relationship. If you stay aware and offer yourself inner healing then the chances of falling in relationships where these dark themes can occur is less likely.

Note: I believe that if you have strong Pisces placements, 12th house natal placements, or Neptune aspecting your inner planets, as well as a broken attachment style or a tumultuous relationship with your mother, you may be more susceptible to experiencing these dark themes in your reality. If you fear love yet simultaneously long for it, these factors can be significant indicators. Conversely, if you do not have these characteristics, the intensity of such themes is less likely.

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: more religion 😬 depression, Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi appear. Jungkook in a towel 💦👅 finally a kiss (things from here happen quickly.) ATTENTION, THIS STORY IS NOT SLOWBURN.

A/N: Guys, I took a while this time for reasons of: laziness and discouragement. I wanted more people to read what I write, but I'm introverted even on the Internet, which leaves me with few alternatives to show my writing to the world. Thinking about it, I'm in trouble. Other than that, only a few days have passed, so everything is fine. Back to the story, everything starts to pick up pace. Just to repeat, the fanfic is not slowburn, so there will be smut in the next chapter. Stay tuned.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 3

I spend the whole week riding an emotional rollercoaster. I find myself visiting my neighbor, Mrs. Jeon, more frequently than usual, and with each visit, our friendship blossoms deeper. She shares stories of her youth, of wild adventures and carefree days when she was my age. Her openness encourages me to share my own experiences–or rather, my lack of them. I recount my first disastrous kiss, confess that I've never been in love, and reveal how my once unshakeable faith in the church has wavered since my father's passing. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders; here, I am free to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, without fear of judgment.

Yet, there's one thing I keep to myself: the incident with her son, Jungkook, and the profound effect he has on me. Throughout all my visits, I never see him again. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I casually ask Mrs. Jeon where he is. She tells me that he moved and rented an apartment to avoid being a burden. He only spent the first night at home after his trip, and I remember that night well–from my window, of course–but I don't mention it. Disappointment settles in me like a stone; I long to see him again, but I focus on his mother instead. Having her to confide in is a relief, a breath of fresh air in my otherwise stifling life.

I patiently wait for her to open up about her own struggles, her depression, but she never does. I worry that I might know something I shouldn't, that perhaps she's not comfortable sharing with me. But I promise myself I'll keep her secret safe, no matter what. Today is Sunday, and I won't visit Mrs. Jeon since I'll see her at church. I'm excited–despite my mother making unnecessary comments and disturbing my peace of mind, I'll have someone to rely on.

I smooth down my dark brown dress, fixing my messy hair. I dab a bit of lipstick on my fingertips and press it onto my lips, careful not to overdo it. The truth is, I enjoy makeup, but I've never learned how to apply it properly. I feel embarrassed drawing attention to myself with bolder colors; after all, people are used to my lack of vanity. I sigh, steeling myself as I head downstairs to meet my mother.

She hasn't stopped talking about Jungkook. Unlike me, who had a good first impression, she despises him. She criticizes everything: his eyebrow piercing, his bold style, his tattoos, even the way he carries himself. I can't help but wonder if she accepted the dinner invitation just to analyze him, searching for flaws that exist only in her mind. She's been friends with Misuk since moving to town, and I want to believe–perhaps naively–that my mother doesn't have ulterior motives.

We arrive at church early, the space quiet with only a few members milling about. My mother drifts away to chat with the older congregation, and I find a seat, taking a deep breath. I scan the room for Mrs. Jeon but I don't see her. Since it's still early, I'm not too worried. I take a moment to read the Bible, reflecting on positive thoughts when I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. I turn, and there he is–Jungkook, smiling brightly. I frown, almost convinced he's a mirage. Am I daydreaming?

"Hi Y/N, are you okay?" he asks softly, his lips brushing almost against my ear. His intense gaze locks with mine, and I'm relieved to be sitting down; my legs feel weak in his presence.

"Everything's fine," I reply, my eyes dropping to my fingers. I want to engage him, ask about his week, inquire how he's been, but the words stick in my throat. It's as though I can't act normally around him. I take a deep breath, mustering the courage to comment, "I didn't know you attended church."

"I don't," he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes. And rightly so; considering his clothes–a heavy leather jacket, shaved sides, and a wavy fringe–it's sexy but definitely not what you'd expect at church. "I haven't been since I was a kid."

"Really? Why?" I ask, genuinely curious, my gaze drawn to his eyebrow piercing, oddly captivating.

"I didn't feel welcome," he replies simply. There's no bitterness in his voice, and I understand all too well what he means. My mother, for example, was the first to judge him based on his appearance, and I can only imagine how difficult it is to feel at home in a place where you're not embraced.

"I understand," I say, unsure of what else to add. "So, you came here to give it another shot?"

"No way," he chuckles. "Actually, my mom mentioned you two planned to meet at church today."

"That's true," I confirm.

"Unfortunately, she can't make it today. She's not feeling well."

"Is she okay?" My concern surfaces immediately.

"She's fine, don't worry. Just a headache, and she took some medicine. She'll be better soon," he assures me, his hand lightly touching my shoulder. I can't help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. I shake my head, trying to divert my thoughts from Jungkook's hands to anything else.

"I'm relieved to hear that," I smile, noticing the church is starting to fill up.

"I'm actually inviting some friends over to my apartment, and I wanted to know if you'd like to join us," he says, brushing his fingertips against his ear, a bit shy. I'm taken aback; I didn't expect this invitation. He wants me to come over with his friends?

"And why?" I ask, surprised. It's been a while since we last saw each other, and we haven't talked much even then.

"I like you. I want you to come so we can have fun."

"If this is some kind of payment, or something like that... you really don't need to." I reply, not believing it. I don't have friends, and the thought that he wants to be with me and the people he likes seems absurd to me.

"It's not that. I'm even a bit offended." He jokes, smiling. "I really want you to come, please."

"Jungkook... I don't know."

"I swear they're nice. Every time I'm in Busan, we hang out. They're trustworthy, I promise."

"I can imagine," I reply, still hesitant. I'd have to leave church, skip the service, and ask my mother for permission to go out with him, and of course, she wouldn't allow it. No way. It's not that I don't want to; I desperately want to spend time with him. That's been on my mind all week. "I don't think it's possible; my mom..."

"I know," he interjects, as if he anticipated my response. "But what if, just this once, you say you are going to my mom's? We could say I'm taking you there when in fact, you're coming to my apartment."

"Are you asking me to lie to my mother in a church?" I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. He shrugs, grinning.

"God knows it's just once," he replies confidently, pouting slightly. "What do you say? Later, I can take you to my mom's whenever you want, or you can stay at my apartment since I have more than one room. You set the time and conditions."

"Jungkook..." I groan, covering my face with my hands. The thought of lying to my mother, especially to go to a guy's house, sends a wave of anxiety through me. If she finds out, I'll be in big trouble.

"Come on! It'll be fun. I promise," he pleads softly. I can't say no to him, at least not now. I nod, agreeing to the madness.

"Okay, but you're the one who's going to talk to my mom. And if I say I want to leave, you agree. No alcohol because I know you drive. Those are my conditions," I assert, trying to sound firm. He smiles and salutes me, like a soldier receiving orders, and I slowly get up, taking small steps toward my mother. I let Jungkook lead the way, my nerves creeping back as I prepare to tell a lie in this sacred place.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Eunji. Good afternoon, everyone," he greets my mom and the other church members. My mother looks utterly shocked, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she takes in his appearance.

"Good afternoon, Jungkook," she replies, lacking enthusiasm, her gaze scanning him from head to toe. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to do a favor for my mom," he clarifies, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost believe him. "My mom asked Y/N to keep her company since my dad will be out of town for a few days. I came to pick her up."

"Really?" my mom looks at me, and I don't say anything, just nodding.

"It's true. My dad went to Daegu this weekend, and since my mom hasn't been feeling well, she asked Y/N to spend time with her. If you allow it, of course," he smiles calmly, and I brace myself waiting for my mother's response. I watch her weigh her options, glancing between Jungkook and me for what feels like an eternity before she sighs and nods.

"Alright, that's fine. Is your mom feeling okay?"

"Yes, she's getting better. Can we go now?" he asks, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Yes, you may go," my mom sighs, placing a hand on her forehead. "It's a shame you're missing the service today, Y/N. Next week, you'll definitely come, okay?"

"Yes, mom, for sure," I agree weakly, clearing my throat and avoiding her gaze, still stunned that she let me go to Jungkook's house. Well, not his house, but is practically the same thing.

"Shall we go, Y/N? My mom is waiting," Jungkook says, raising an eyebrow. I nod, still silent, as we make our way toward the exit.

Some people stare, especially the older members, who seem shocked by Jungkook's appearance–too conservative, in my opinion. Somehow, the situation feels even funnier. Once we're sure no one can see us anymore, I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach. Jungkook chuckles too, exhaling as if he's just finished a tough exam and is finally free.

"Your mom is tough, huh?" he laughs. "I thought she was going to kill me with her eyes."

"Sorry," I say, still giggling a little. "She's like that with everyone."

"Even with you?"

"Even with me," I nod. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we go to my apartment. My friends have the key, so they're probably already there."

"Don't tell me they're all guys," I groan, suddenly anxious. I hadn't considered that he might not have any female friends, and I'd be the only girl at the apartment if that were the case.

"No, relax! I have female friends too. You'll like them," he assures me, walking toward a sleek black car parked across the street. I know nothing about cars, but I can tell this one is expensive. I feel out of place, acutely aware that Jungkook lives in a different world, one that's far removed from my own.

The tension in the car is palpable as we drive. The ride feels like it takes forever, the windows closed, and I'm intoxicated by his scent. I discreetly watch his large hands on the wheel, the way his long fingers tap rhythmically against the leather seat. I have to swallow hard to keep from drooling over him. I'm starving–not for food, but for him. All week, I've yearned to be near him, to touch him. I think I'm suffering from a Jungkook overdose, craving something I haven't even tasted yet.

I ponder whether he's aware of the effect he has on me, but I like to believe he hasn't noticed. It's easier that way. I breathe slowly, attempting to relax in my seat. It takes another ten minutes before Jungkook opens the gate to a condo with a small remote and drives in slowly. His car fits the place perfectly. Everything is stunning and upscale. I glance at my clothes and regret agreeing to come. Why did I say yes? I don't know his friends, and I don't know Jungkook that well, aside from the overwhelming attraction I feel toward him. What do I actually know about him? That he's a tattoo artist from Seoul? That he's rich and hasn't set foot in a church since childhood? I feel like I've walked into a situation that's spiraling out of control.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You went quiet all of a sudden," he asks, concern etched on his face.

"I'm fine. Just feeling a bit strange," I admit.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I confess, omitting my paranoid thoughts. "I always feel like this in new places."

"I get that. I feel that way too," he tells me as we step into the parking elevator. I follow him, digesting this new revelation.

"You seem so confident and social," I comment, genuinely amazed. His big eyes meet mine as the elevator rises, floors passing by in a blur.

"I know, it seems that way. But in reality, I'm quite introverted. I have a small circle of friends and prefer it that way. I just fake it really well," he shares, and I find myself wanting to know more about the person behind the confident exterior.

"Really?" I ask, intrigued.

"Yeah," he nods, his expression earnest.

I try to respond, but the elevator stops on a floor, and Jungkook smiles at me, indicating that this is the right place. I feel one of his hands gently touch my waist, guiding me to a white door. I have to take a deep breath to keep from freaking out, my sweaty, trembling hands hidden in my pocket. I hear different music from the other side of the door before the place fully opens up to us.

"Hey, he's here! Finally, Jungkook!" I hear a male voice. It's a guy around Jungkook's age, I realize as soon as we walk in. His hair is a dark red, and his skin is pale and smooth. It's no surprise that his arms are covered in tattoos, drawings and phrases I can't read so far away. He also watches me closely, smiling warmly.

"Guys, this is YN, the one I told you about," Jungkook introduces me with a smile.

I turn red because there are at least seven people staring at me from head to toe. The apartment is well-kept, with dark wooden furniture. The living room is immaculate, with abstract paintings and photos of Jungkook and his family on the walls. I don't have much time to take everything in as my eyes focus on Jungkook's friends, who are strangers to me so far. Saying they're different from me would be an understatement.

They all have many tattoos and wear dark clothing. I sense an aura of confidence from all of them, but never hostility. It's as if they're very similar to Jungkook, with a completely different exterior from their inner selves. I relax a bit, smiling warmly and putting on my best expression.

"Nice to meet you all," I say, feeling a bit shy. They stand up and smile at me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Yoongi. That's my girlfriend, Minji," says the red-haired guy, pointing to the woman who just smiles. I offer my hand, feeling his cold skin from the beer bottle he was holding earlier.

"I'm Bora, and this is my boyfriend, Jimin," one of the dark-haired women greets me next, pointing to her boyfriend. They're a good-looking couple, the kind you see in magazines. Jimin has the brightest and most open smile.

"Nice to meet you," I nod.

"I'm Taehyung, but you can call me Tae," one of the guys says, taking a sip of his drink.

"I'm Yoori, Tae's girlfriend. Nice to meet you," she winks, making me laugh.

"And I'm Hayun, the only single one in the group," one of the girls shakes my hand, pulling me into a hug. She kisses my cheek, making her presence increasingly noticeable.

"Hayun, you're only single because you want to be, come on," Bora rolls her eyes. Hayun laughs, grabbing a snack from the coffee table.

"I like being single, except when I'm surrounded by couples. Especially couples like you guys."

"Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?" Jimin asks. Embarrassed, I shake my head.

"No," I reply. They seem surprised, making noises with their mouths.

"But Jungkook is single too, right?" The guy with dark hair says, drinking his beverage. I thinks his name is Tae, if I remember right.

"And I want to keep that way." Jungkook replys.

"Of course you do." Yoongi laughs along with his friends, rolling his eyes. I remain silent, not understanding the joke. Then Yoongi looks at me and seems to notice my confusion. "Y/N, Jungkook never dates. The only time he tried, it went so wrong that now he doesn’t want to do it again."

"It was a disaster." Yoori adds, as if telling a fictional story. Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing, but his friend continues: "he’s been avoiding relationships like the devil avoids the cross since then."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"It’s not true, Y/N." Jungkook smiles at me. "They’re idiots."

"That’s not a lie." Minji, who had been silent until then, clarifies. "He’s been asked out several times, and he always declines. Women go crazy for him, for some reason."

"I know what the reason is." Jimin laughs mischievously, suggesting something while raising an eyebrow. I turn red when they laugh at the joke. Jungkook doesn’t contest it, too busy eating one of the snacks on the table. "But what about you, Y/N? Have you ever dated before?"

"Never." I reply. They don't look surprised this time.

"So you're like Jungkook, who avoids relationships?" Bora asks with a laugh. I feel Jungkook's eyes on me, watching attentively for my response. I shake my head, feeling awkward.

"No, actually, it's just a lack of options," I clarify, deciding to be honest. I hold my hands together nervously.

"Now you have two options," Yoongi suggests with a chuckle. Minji hits his arm trying to stop him, but he continues: "There's Hayun, since she likes to try out a little bit of everything, like some pussy and shit."

"Oh!" I widen my eyes, shocked, as they laugh even more. It's the first time I've seen someone speak so openly like this. Embarrassed, I look at Hayun, but she doesn't seem to mind the comment, laughing with the others.

"Who would be the other option?" Taehyung asks his friend with his trademark grin.

"Our friend Jungkook, obviously," Yoongi clarifies, and I choke on the answer, coughing uncontrollably.

They laugh even more, watching me nearly suffocate from the joke. Jungkook pats my back, smiling widely. His thumb caresses the skin of my arm, waiting for me to calm down. We're so close that he inadvertently wraps one of his arms around my shoulder. I'm shocked and even more unsettled. For me, physical contact beyond my mom is rare. Hugs, affection... I'm just not used to it.

"Are you okay?" he asks amidst his friends' chatter. I nod, staring at my hands. "Sorry about Yoongi; he always makes these kinds of jokes. He doesn't mean any harm."

"It's fine," I assure him, feeling awkward, unable to look into his eyes. "I actually liked everyone."

"Really?" he asks, bringing his nose close to my hair. My whole body shivers as I realize he's smelling my perfume, giving a satisfied smile when he pulls away. "Good to know."

I stay silent, feeling his warm breath near me. Jungkook removes his arm from my shoulder, but his skin still brushes against mine when he takes off his heavy jacket, leaving him in just a T-shirt. His friends are fun and involve me in the conversation, making me feel comfortable, but the truth is that having Jungkook so close drives me crazy and I can't pay much attention. I wonder how long I'll feel this way about him. Will this strong effect never go away? This is the third time we've met, but something tells me that no matter how many times I see him-be it two times or a thousand-my heart will always race whenever he gets close and smiles at me.

I don't even notice the time passing and only realize it's late when Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung offer to take their girlfriends home, along with Hayun, who complains about not having anyone waiting for her at her apartment. Everyone leaves until only Jungkook and I remain. He promised to take me to his mother's house if I wanted, but I'm hesitant to ask as it's quite likely Mrs. Jeon is already asleep by now.

"Y/N, do you want me to get a towel for you?" Jungkook asks, tidying up the living room. I'm confused, picking up some empty soju bottles his friends drank to throw away.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not going to stay here?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Not really?" I laugh, then realize I might have been a bit rude, so I rephrase my response. "I mean, I don't think so. I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother. If you want, you can take a shower in my bathroom and sleep in the guest room." He offers with a smile. I bite my lower lip, unsure what to decide. I want to stay here, but it's just him and me now; is it really the right thing to do? It doesn't matter, Y/N. Just for one night.

"Okay then. Do you have a toothbrush, please?"

"Of course I do. Come with me, I'll get the stuff for you to use the bathroom." He calls me with a smile and walks down the long hallway. We pass by a few doors until we reach his room. My throat goes dry as my eyes scan the new space. His bed is large and covered with a dark gray blanket. The walls are white and everything is very organized, with a laptop next to the wardrobe and a fluffy black rug on the floor. His scent is everywhere, almost as if I'm breathing him. I clutch my hands together nervously about being alone with Jungkook in such an intimate space. He reappears after going to the closet, holding a white towel and some cotton clothes.

"You can take a shower in my bathroom while I use the guest one," he says, placing the items in my hands.

"Jungkook, that's not necessary..."

"Don't worry. I want you to be comfortable." He says before I can argue. His satisfied smile makes me not deny it again, happy to receive so much care from him. I just nod, agreeing. "The toothbrush is in the cabinet by the sink, in the package. You can open it, okay?"

"Okay, thank you very much." I smile before he walks down the hallway. I head to the door leading to the bathroom and sneak into the new space. I start thinking Jungkook has no flaws.

The place is as clean as the rest of the apartment, which makes me curious; does he clean everything himself, or does he hire someone to keep it tidy? I slowly take off my dress, grabbing my phone to text my mom and let her know I'm okay. I feel bad for lying, but the night was so good that I can't truly regret it. If I had to lie, to meet these same people, I would do it again. Thinking this surprises me, because just a few hours ago, I didn't think this way. The shower has a strong hot jet of water that massages my whole body, and it's so good that I have to convince myself to finish the shower and put on the clothes, trying to be done before Jungkook.

I brush my teeth quickly, smelling my skin that's still male fragrant with the liquid soap. I smile at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair with my fingers, trying to manage the unwashed strands. I open the bathroom door carefully, trying not to make too much noise and disturb the neighbors at this hour, when I see Jungkook again, this time only in a towel. I hold onto the doorframe, barely able to stand. A voice in my head tells me I shouldn't be watching him naked again and that I should turn around, go back into the bathroom, and pretend nothing happened, but I can't. I simply can't anymore. His muscular, wet back is in my field of vision as he searches for clothes. At that moment, my brain turns to mush and I decide to say what's been stuck in my throat.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I muster the courage to ask him but I regret it immediately. What the hell am I doing? Jungkook turns slowly and the view from the front is a thousand times better than from the back. His whole body glistens in the light of the room, and his tattoos have never been so vivid. His body is muscular, virile and strong. I gonna lose my mind! Feeling new sensations I've never experienced for anyone before.

"Y/N?" He whispers my name with that soft voice he used when we first met. He doesn't seem surprised or embarrassed, which makes me even more unsettled.

"You're doing this on purpose, Jungkook?" I ask again. I have no idea where I got such courage and I don't know how long it will last. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest. My whole body is on edge and sweating. I feel my hands trembling as I swallow hard. "You're trying something? I mean... you're not wearing clothes again and..."

"What do you think, Y/N?" he retorts suddenly, with a hoarse, deep voice. His eyes wander from my head to toes, as he raises an eyebrow along with his piercing, with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. My legs turn to weak twigs immediately, ready to collapse.

"I-I don't know." I stammer as he takes one step, then two and three, getting closer and closer to me.

"When I arrived from my trip to Busan, on the first day, I was tired and exhausted," he tells me, taking another step. I start to run out of breath, anxious and aroused. My cheeks flush as he speaks more slowly. "All I wanted was to rest and sleep the whole night, but that night I couldn't, not for an hour. Do you know why?"

"N-no..." I moan softly as his chest presses against mine. His warm, wet skin makes contact with mine, and I no longer know where I begin or end, pressed against his body. His pink lips curl into a wicked smile, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to me and it's all intentional. I shiver as his free hand moves up my wrist and grips the back of my neck firmly, making my eyes focus on his mouth and then his dark, deep eyes.

"A woman, next window, taking off all her damn clothes, completely shameless," he growls, pulling my neck closer to his face and pressing his lips to my ear. My spine tingles as I feel his teeth on my earlobe, in a bite that doesn't hurt but damn, it makes me shiver. My body contracts once and twice, and I know exactly what I'm feeling now: desire. The kind I feel occasionally when I try to touch myself alone and can't reach climax. The feeling I only have when I'm alone and confortable in my bed, trying to use my imagination even with the lack of real experience, but this is real, and it is infinitely better than what my mind could create.

"It was an accident, Jung..." I try to say, but my voice doesn't come out. The tip of his nose travels along a sensitive spot behind my ear, one I didn't even know existed, slowly moving down my jawline, discovering new paths. His hand tightens around my waist, keeping me in place, immobile.

"It may be that you didn't notice, Y/N, but I know you were watching me, even while I was undressing, even when you had every opportunity to stop." He argues with a smile, as someone who knows what they're doing and enjoys seeing the result. "And you know what's worse...? The worst thing is knowing the effect you have on me. From the first time I saw you in my house, with your innocent and curious eyes. I can't get you out of my damn head. Your mouth, your scent..."

"J-Jungkook... please." I beg, closing my eyes tightly. And I know what I want. I want him, since the first time I saw him. Since my eyes met his, I desired him so strongly that I couldn't think straight. He pulls away just a little, and I almost moan in a plea for him not to go. He sighs, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?" he asks in a very soft voice, and I nod because, despite all the things I believe in–God, hell, heaven and even my mother–nothing has ever been as adored as Jungkook. Since I met him, inexplicably, I only think about him, like a spell unable to contemplate of any other answer besides yes. I look at his eyes as they travel to my mouth, and I lower mine to his, exhilarated by that pink that only exists in him.

I move closer, my lips almost touching his, feeling the warmth of his breath. "Just kiss me, please." I murmur scared of what I'm doing; temptation clear in every word. And then he does.

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

@ane102 @ttipa @joonwater

[urdreamydoodles]

MCU Characters x Fem!Reader (Part.2)

They react to your outfit for your date with them (Part.2)

As you step out for a much-anticipated date night, your partner reacts with their unique blend of admiration and protectiveness, captivated by your stunning appearance.

Characters: Marc Spector, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley, Wade Wilson, Logan Howlett, Natasha Romanoff, Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Wanda Maximoff & Yelena Belova

Marc Spector (Moon Knight)

- Marc is completely caught off guard when he sees you, his usual stoic expression breaking as his eyes widen in surprise. "Holy crap," he mutters under his breath, his gaze glued to you. He’s not used to seeing you like this—dressed to the nines, looking absolutely stunning—and it shows in the way he momentarily freezes, struggling to find the right words. "You look... wow," he finally manages, his voice rough but filled with genuine awe.

- He steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and there’s something almost vulnerable in the way he reaches out, his hand resting gently on your arm. "I don’t deserve you," he says quietly, his tone serious, but there’s a softness in his eyes that you don’t see often. Marc doesn’t think of himself as the romantic type, but the way he’s looking at you now makes it clear just how deeply he feels.

- "You sure you want to be seen with me looking like that?" he jokes, though you can tell by the tension in his voice that he’s half-worried he doesn’t measure up to how amazing you look. You reassure him with a smile, and he relaxes slightly, though his gaze remains intense, like he’s trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

- Throughout the night, Marc is more attentive than usual, constantly checking on you, his protective instincts kicking in. He’s still quiet, but there’s a rawness to his affection—little gestures like holding your hand or brushing his fingers against your cheek—that show how much he’s affected by you. And when the night draws to a close, Marc pulls you into a deep, lingering kiss, as if he’s silently thanking you for being there, for choosing him.

Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

- Steven’s reaction is immediate and utterly endearing. The moment you walk into the room, his eyes widen, and his mouth falls open in astonishment. "Blimey!" he exclaims, his British accent making the moment even more charming. He fumbles with his words for a second, trying to gather his thoughts. "You—you look absolutely gorgeous," he says, his cheeks flushing pink as he awkwardly adjusts his tie, clearly flustered by how stunning you are.

- He’s not the type to play it cool, so when he steps toward you, it’s with genuine awe. His hands hover nervously before finally settling on your shoulders. "I feel like I’m in a dream or somethin'," he says, his voice soft and filled with admiration. "Are you sure you’re real?" Steven’s not shy about expressing how incredible he thinks you look—his eyes are practically sparkling with admiration, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

- As the two of you head out for the evening, Steven constantly fidgets, clearly nervous but excited to be on a date with someone who, in his mind, is way out of his league. "I—I can’t believe you’re with me tonight," he says with a shy smile, holding the door open for you like the gentleman he is. His nervous energy is contagious, but it’s also heartwarming, making you feel even more special.

- Throughout the night, Steven showers you with compliments, his words always sincere and never forced. "You’re too perfect," he says at one point, his voice full of wonder. He’s completely smitten, and by the time the night is over, Steven’s eyes haven’t left you once. When he finally works up the courage to kiss you goodnight, it’s soft and tentative, but full of affection—the kind of kiss that leaves your heart fluttering.

Jake Lockley (Moon Knight)

- Jake’s reaction is understated but sharp. The second you step into his line of sight, his eyes darken, scanning you from head to toe with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. He doesn’t say anything at first—he’s not a man of many words, but the way he slowly licks his lips, his head tilting slightly as he takes you in, tells you everything. “Dios mío,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, his voice rough with restrained admiration.

- Jake doesn’t move right away; instead, he leans back in his seat, taking you in like he’s savoring the moment. When he finally does stand up, it’s slow, deliberate. He walks over to you, his dark eyes locking onto yours, and the way he looks at you feels dangerous—thrilling. “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?” he says with a smirk, his voice low and gravelly. There’s a playful edge to his tone, but beneath it, there’s no mistaking how much he likes what he sees.

- He reaches out, his hand grazing your waist as he pulls you in close, his grip firm yet possessive. “You look too good to be out in public,” he teases, his lips just inches from yours. There’s a fierceness in his eyes, like he’s already calculating how to keep you all to himself for the rest of the night. “Let’s skip the fancy dinner, cariño. I’ve got better plans,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with suggestion, though the glint in his eye lets you know he’s half-joking—half.

- Throughout the night, Jake is more protective than usual, keeping a hand on you at all times, his possessive streak showing in the way he glances at anyone who dares to look at you too long. But when you catch his eye, there’s a warmth there, a silent acknowledgment that even behind his rough edges, he’s completely captivated by you. And by the end of the night, when he pulls you into a deep, heated kiss, it’s clear he’s never letting you go.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool, Fox Universe)

- Wade’s reaction is, unsurprisingly, completely over-the-top. The second he sees you, he lets out a loud, exaggerated wolf whistle. “Hot damn!” he exclaims, his mouth hanging open in mock disbelief. “Did I die and go to heaven? Because, sweetheart, you’re making me look like an amateur!” He struts over to you with a goofy grin on his scarred face, completely unbothered by how ridiculous he looks in comparison to your stunning appearance.

- “You sure you wanna be seen with this?” he gestures to himself dramatically, hands moving over his scarred body. But before you can respond, he’s already spinning you around like you’re on a runway. “Look at you! You’re the perfect combination of sexy and sophisticated. I mean, I might have to make a new fourth wall break just to brag about how hot my partner is.” His antics are ridiculous, but beneath it, there’s genuine affection in his eyes as he gazes at you with awe.

- Wade doesn’t stop with the compliments. He’s constantly throwing out one-liners like, “You’re so hot, even my regenerative healing factor can’t handle it,” and “We’re definitely getting free appetizers tonight just based on your looks alone.” But every now and then, he’ll drop a quieter, more sincere line: “Seriously, though... you look incredible. Like, jaw-droppingly amazing. I’m the luckiest guy ever.”

- Throughout the night, Wade alternates between being his usual, chaotic self—cracking jokes and making a scene—and being surprisingly sweet. He sticks close to you, throwing his arm around your shoulders and stealing kisses whenever he can. And despite the jokes, you can tell he’s genuinely proud to be by your side. At the end of the night, he pulls you in for a long, deep kiss before whispering, “You and me? We’re the hottest power couple in this or any other universe, babe.”

Logan (Wolverine, Fox Universe)

- Logan’s reaction is subtle but unmistakable. When you walk into the room, his brows lift just a fraction, and a low, appreciative growl rumbles from his chest. “Damn,” he mutters, his voice rough and full of that gruff Logan charm. He doesn’t say much else—Logan’s never been one for flowery compliments—but the way his eyes sweep over you, lingering a little longer than usual, tells you all you need to know.

- He walks up to you with that rugged, confident stride of his, his hand reaching out to tug you close by the waist. “You sure you’re dressed for a date with me and not some fancy rich guy?” he teases, his lips quirking into a crooked smirk. But there’s no hiding the admiration in his voice, or the way his gaze softens as he looks at you. “Guess I gotta step up my game tonight,” he adds, a rare playful glint in his eyes.

- Logan might not be overly romantic, but he’s protective. As the night goes on, he keeps a hand on you, always close, always watching. He doesn’t like attention, but he can’t help the small, prideful grin that tugs at his lips when he catches people glancing at you. “They’re all lookin’ at you,” he grumbles at one point, but there’s no jealousy in his tone—just quiet satisfaction that you’re with him, and no one else.

- By the end of the night, Logan pulls you aside, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple. “You know, you’re somethin’ else,” he says, his voice low and gravelly, as his fingers trace lazy circles on your back. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.” There’s something deeper in his tone, a rare moment of vulnerability from the man who’s usually all gruff exteriors. And when he kisses you goodnight, it’s slow, lingering—like he’s savoring every second.

Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)

- Natasha’s reaction is calm, collected—like everything with her, it’s controlled. But the way her eyes flick over you when she first sees you, her lips curving into a small, approving smile, tells you she’s more than impressed. “You clean up well,” she says smoothly, her voice steady but full of admiration. Natasha’s not one to gush, but the way she’s looking at you feels intimate, like she’s drinking in every detail without needing to say much.

- She approaches you with that confident grace she always has, her movements fluid and precise. “You look beautiful,” she says softly, reaching out to brush her fingers down your arm. It’s a simple gesture, but coming from Natasha, it feels loaded with meaning. She doesn’t waste words, but the sincerity in her compliment hits harder than any grand declaration.

- As the two of you head out for the night, Natasha stays close, her hand resting lightly on your lower back as she guides you through the room. She’s calm, collected, and absolutely in control, but there’s a certain pride in the way she carries herself tonight. You catch her glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, and the small, satisfied smirk that plays on her lips tells you she’s enjoying the attention you’re getting—though, as always, she’ll never let anyone know.

- Throughout the night, Natasha is attentive, always making sure you’re comfortable and subtly complimenting you in her own quiet way. “You’re turning heads,” she whispers in your ear at one point, her tone almost teasing, but there’s warmth there, too. By the end of the evening, when you’re alone, Natasha pulls you close, her fingers tangling in your hair as she leans in for a slow, passionate kiss. “You’re incredible,” she murmurs against your lips, and you know, without a doubt, that she means every word.

Matt Murdock (Daredevil)

- Matt doesn’t need to see you to know how breathtaking you look. The moment you walk into the room, he senses it—the way your perfume mixes with the subtle hum of your heartbeat, and the soft rustle of fabric as you move. “You look... incredible,” he says, his voice low and reverent. The way he speaks makes it clear that he’s picturing every detail in his mind, and there’s a quiet intensity to the way he reaches out for you, his fingers brushing lightly over your arm before settling at your waist.

- When Matt runs his hands along the fabric of your outfit, there’s a softness in his touch, almost like he’s committing the feel of it to memory. “You always have a way of surprising me,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a subtle smile. Even though he can’t see, his senses make up for it—he can feel the way you carry yourself, the confidence radiating off of you. And even though he’s usually calm and composed, you can feel the way his pulse quickens ever so slightly when you’re this close.

- Throughout the night, Matt stays close to you, his hand either resting lightly on your lower back or brushing against your arm. He’s always aware of his surroundings, but tonight, his focus is on you. “You’re making it really hard to concentrate on anything else,” he teases quietly at one point, his voice laced with warmth. There’s a deep admiration in the way he speaks, like he’s always amazed by you, no matter how many times you’ve dressed up for him.

- By the end of the night, when it’s just the two of you, Matt pulls you into a slow, deliberate kiss. “I don’t need to see you to know you’re stunning,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. There’s a tenderness in the way he holds you close, like you’re the most important thing in his world, and it’s clear he’s completely captivated by everything you are.

Frank Castle (The Punisher)

- Frank’s reaction is quiet, but intense. When you step into the room, his eyes lock onto you immediately, and for a moment, he just stares. His brow furrows slightly, not out of confusion, but because he’s trying to process just how damn good you look. “You doin’ this to mess with me?” he finally mutters, his voice low and gravelly, though there’s a hint of admiration in his tone that he can’t quite hide.

- He doesn’t move right away, just stands there, arms crossed, as his eyes roam over every detail of your outfit. Frank’s never been one for flowery compliments, but the way he looks at you—like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you—says more than words ever could. “You’re... somethin’ else,” he says gruffly, scratching the back of his neck like he’s not sure how to handle seeing you like this.

- When he finally walks over to you, his movements are deliberate, his hand sliding around your waist as he pulls you close. “Lookin’ like that, we’re not gonna make it through the night without some trouble,” he mutters, half-joking, but there’s a protective edge to his voice. He’s proud to have you on his arm, but he’s also hyper-aware of how others might look at you—and that protective instinct of his kicks in almost immediately.

- As the night goes on, Frank stays close to you, always keeping an eye on your surroundings. He’s not a man of many words, but he’ll occasionally lean in and murmur something like, “You’re killin’ me with that dress,” or “I’m gonna have a hard time focusin’ on anything but you tonight.” By the end of the evening, when it’s just the two of you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you with an intensity that leaves no doubt about how much he appreciates you.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

- Wanda’s reaction is full of warmth and admiration. The moment she sees you, her lips part slightly, and a soft smile spreads across her face. “Wow,” she breathes, her Sokovian accent softening the word as her eyes light up with pure adoration. She doesn’t try to hide how much she’s in awe of you, and she takes a moment to simply drink you in, her head tilting as she steps closer. “You look... absolutely beautiful.”

- Wanda reaches out, her fingers gently brushing against the fabric of your outfit, almost like she’s checking to make sure you’re real. “I knew you’d look amazing, but this... this is something else.” There’s a dreamy quality to her voice, like she’s genuinely stunned by how radiant you look. Her eyes linger on you, full of quiet affection, and you can feel how much she appreciates every little detail you put into dressing up for her.

- Throughout the night, Wanda is always attentive, her hand either intertwined with yours or resting gently on your arm. She’s constantly stealing little glances at you, and each time she does, there’s a look of pure admiration on her face. “You have no idea how lucky I feel to be with you,” she whispers at one point, her voice soft and full of sincerity. There’s a sense of calm and comfort that radiates from her, and being with her feels like being wrapped in a warm, safe embrace.

- By the end of the night, when you’re alone, Wanda pulls you into a gentle, lingering kiss. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how beautiful you are,” she murmurs, her forehead resting against yours as she smiles softly. There’s something magical in the way she holds you, like she’s utterly enchanted by you, and you can feel her love in every touch, every word.

Yelena Belova (Black Widow, Platonic)

- Yelena’s reaction is playful, as always. When she sees you all dressed up, she lets out a dramatic whistle and claps her hands together. “Oh, look at you! Like a supermodel from Vogue!” she exclaims, her voice full of teasing admiration. She circles you with exaggerated flair, like she’s inspecting you. “What’s the occasion? You getting ready to impress some very important people, huh?” she teases, but there’s genuine appreciation in her tone.

- She walks up to you and flicks a piece of your outfit, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Look at this! You put effort into this, didn’t you? Good thing you have me to make sure you don’t trip over those shoes or something,” she says with a smirk, her humor always present. Despite the teasing, Yelena is visibly impressed, and she shows it with her cheeky compliments. “I’m pretty sure heads will turn. If not, I’ll make sure they do!”

- Yelena is a firm believer in boosting you up, and she does it with her own quirky brand of tough love. “Don’t get too used to being all fancy, though. Tomorrow we’ll be back to the tactical suits,” she jokes, nudging you with her elbow. But then she grins, patting your back. “No, seriously—you look amazing. Like, annoyingly amazing.” There’s affection behind her teasing, a silent acknowledgment that she’s proud to have you as her friend.

- As the two of you head out, Yelena sticks by your side, ready to make sure everything goes perfectly. She offers her signature sarcastic commentary throughout the night, but you can feel her warmth behind it all. “If anyone gives you trouble, I’ll handle it,” she says with a wink, half-joking. By the end of the night, she gives you a tight hug. “You clean up good. Next time, you pick the restaurant. I’ll be in charge of not getting us into trouble.”

[yannaryartside]

WE NEED 5 SEASONS

Okay I need to vent a little. Please indulge me

This is for this article that says the 5th season is up to Storer.

Storer said they filmed most of season 4, and some things still need to be filmed. So we will have s4 next summer, and we don't know if there will be a 5th one.

I could put my hand on fire to my belief that we will have 5 seasons. Mostly, because regardless of the importance of showing “being trapped in negative patterns” that was s3 for multiple characters, is not gonna be a satisfying conclusion if all those patterns are resolved in one season.

Realistically, i would not make sense.

Even if you think Claire is Carmy’s salvation, this graceful, perfect angel that came to serve Carmy’s redemption, and when they get together, everything will be fine (that narrative sucks ass, by the way, is perpetually insulting to everyone that had ever had a mental illness to suggest them they only need to fall on the hands of someone that ignores all their defects and are determined to please them). You could believe this is all about self-sabotage, and Carmy will wake up next season, apologize to Claire, save the restaurant by ex-maquina magic, and get his happy ending. Yeah, that will be 4 seasons of a conclusive story and an objectively terrible narrative. It is also very insulting to every person who has a romantic partner who struggles with addiction and/or mental illness to tell them they need to be this fairy tale of a person who is Claire to bring "peace" to their partner and basically solve their life. Fuck that. I refuse to believe they are doing that on purpose.

But if they put the “sleigh of hand” and Carmy has to realize that his emotional dependence on Claire is toxic and only contributed to his depression and disassociation, since you spent all S3 pulling him in that direction, making him believe that is what he wanted/needed, you are going to need a whole season for him even to “scape the illusion.” All of this will align with the Bear having to close, Syd potentially leaving, and starting dating Luca. So, S4 is going to be the “wake-up call.”

S5 should be the season of creating new patterns. Carmy will get into therapy. Syd will come back. The two will create new recipes and work on the menu (collaboration, vulnerability). They will realize they have true feelings for one another. Each character will move towards the place they are gonna end up with.

If you created a whole season about "being in the freeze response" and another two previous seasons of extending trauma and bad coping mechanisms, you are gonna need more than one season to fix that; mental wellness is not like that; it should be treated like something that requires more time combined with efforts.

Not to mention, if SydCarmy is indeed happening, you have spent 3 fucking seasons creating distance between them. I also feel like so much of Sydney's life (to her and to us) is trapped around Carmy's issues, and it actually would make more sense for her to realize being with Carmy is too taxing for her, regardless if she had the most realistic tools to actually help him to grow.

You also had not given Sydney a proper arc to grow from her insecurities and follow her dreams. She still seems to be as insecure of her own skills as when she came in, because Carmy insist on creating a menu based on his trauma. Regardless of his good intentions and the beauty of their connection, she will leave the "bear narrative" as if Carmy is the closest thing she had to a chef David, as if Carmy was the monster she needed to endure to "grow" or "decide better." Fuck that.

[blackenedsnow]

I love ur writing so much could I maybe request p1 slowly learning to love and be loved 💔

p1 dude learning to love and be loved ; headcanons

WARNING: Emotional detachment, slow emotional healing, and mental health struggles.

PAIRING: Postal (1) Dude x Reader

NOTE: Thank you so much for your kind words! This is sooo sweet and I had so much fun writing this.

At the beginning, Dude is incredibly distant.

He’s been hardened by everything going on in his head, unable to trust anyone, and it takes time before he even acknowledges your presence as something more than just another person in his life.

He avoids eye contact, rarely speaks, and his body language is closed off.

He flinches at touch, even a casual hand on his shoulder can cause him to stiffen.

He’s not used to physical affection and struggles with it, associating touch with pain or vulnerability.

You notice this and take things slow, giving him space while offering gentle reassurances that you’re there for him.

The first step to breaking through his walls happens in small ways.

You notice that he tends to neglect himself—skipping meals, isolating for days, or losing himself in his own thoughts.

You leave food for him, make sure he has a clean place to rest, or leave a blanket for him when it gets cold.

Even though he has that coat on all the time.

He doesn’t thank you at first, but you notice him slowly accepting these gestures, even if he doesn’t show it outwardly.

There are rare moments when you catch a glimpse of his vulnerability.

Maybe it’s late at night when the weight of the paranoia becomes too much, and you find him staring out into the darkness, lost in thought.

You sit next to him, offering silent company.

He doesn’t say anything, but the fact that he doesn’t push you away is progress.

Trust comes slowly for him.

The first time he starts opening up to you, it’s not in the form of deep conversation but in subtle actions—he lets you sit closer to him, or he allows himself to relax slightly in your presence.

It’s a process of him realizing that not everyone wants to hurt him, and you’re someone who’s there to help, not judge.

Dude doesn’t know how to love anymore, not in the traditional sense.

But with time, he starts showing his affection in his own way—he might fix something for you, stand by your side, or give you something meaningful to him, even if it’s small.

He’s not one for grand romantic gestures, but his love is shown in quieter ways.

If you’re having a tough day, he’ll sit beside you in silence, offering his presence rather than words.

His touch remains tentative, but over time, you notice him reaching out—a hand on yours, or resting his head on your shoulder when he feels safe enough to do so.

His biggest fear is losing the one person who has stayed by his side.

The thought terrifies him because he knows how fleeting happiness can be.

When you notice him getting more protective, it’s not out of possessiveness but fear.

He doesn’t know how to express it, but the idea of losing you is unbearable to him.

It takes time for Dude to fully accept that he deserves love.

Even after he begins to care for you, there’s still a lingering doubt in his mind—why would anyone want to be with someone like him?

But as you continue to show him patience, understanding, and unconditional support, he starts to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’s worthy of love after all.

There’s a moment when the emotional walls he’s built start to crack.

Maybe it’s after a particularly difficult day, or when his fear catches up to him, but he finally lets his guard down in front of you.

He doesn’t say much, but he leans into your embrace, allowing himself to be vulnerable, if only for a moment.

It’s then that he realizes just how much he needs you.

Slowly but surely, Dude learns that love isn’t about perfection or being strong all the time.

It’s about support, about being there for one another, and allowing someone to care for you, even when you don’t feel like you deserve it.

You’re the person who teaches him that love can be a healing force, and while it’s not a magic fix, it’s a step towards a brighter future.

Dude may never be the most emotionally expressive person, but he’s learned how to love and be loved.

He starts to accept that it’s okay to rely on someone else, and while he may never fully leave behind his paranoia, with you by his side, he begins to find peace in the idea that love doesn’t have to hurt.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Better Off Alone (TWS!bucky drabble)

Summary: The Winter Soldier lets you free.

Warnings: Angst

WC: 931

Read on Ao3!

--

The dim light of the warehouse flickered above, casting eerie shadows over the cold concrete floor. You sat on the ground, wrists aching from the tight restraints around them. Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to steady your breath. You'd been chasing a lead—a stupid, reckless lead—and now you were in the hands of the enemy.

The Winter Soldier.

He stood in the corner of the room, shrouded in darkness, the metallic glint of his left arm the only indication he was there at all. Silent, still, like a ghost waiting for a command. You’d heard stories about him—the deadly assassin, the man who never left anyone alive.

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the fear, but your mind kept racing. How had you ended up here? One wrong step, one miscalculation, and now you were at his mercy.

“You’re better off without them.”

The low, gravelly voice startled you, and your eyes snapped open. The Winter Soldier was speaking, his words measured and cold. He wasn’t looking at you, though—his eyes were fixed somewhere far off, as if he were talking to himself more than you.

“What?” Your voice came out shaky, betraying the fear you were trying so hard to hide.

His gaze finally shifted to you, blue eyes piercing and yet strangely… empty. There was a hollowness behind them that sent a shiver through you. He took a step closer, and the air between you seemed to tighten with tension.

“They left you,” he said simply, like it was a fact, not an accusation. “Abandoned you the moment things got difficult.”

You shook your head, confused. “No, they—”

“They’re gone,” he interrupted, his voice firm, almost mechanical. “And you… you’re better off without them.”

His words echoed in the vast emptiness of the warehouse, hanging between you like a blade. You didn’t know what he was trying to do, but the way he said it, the finality in his tone—it was almost like he believed it.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you shot back, your voice stronger now, though fear still coiled tightly in your chest. “Or about them.”

The Winter Soldier didn’t react, didn’t flinch. He just watched you with that blank, emotionless stare. “I know more than you think,” he said quietly. “I know what it’s like to be left behind.”

You froze at the quiet vulnerability in his voice. It was barely a whisper, almost as if he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. But there it was, a crack in the cold, unfeeling facade.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your heart racing faster now, not from fear but from something else. A strange, unsettling sympathy.

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he turned away, the heavy silence filling the space between you again. His metal hand clenched into a fist, the sound of metal scraping metal making your skin crawl.

“They told me I was better off too,” he finally said, his voice dark. “Better off without the memories, without the pain. Without… them.”

You could see the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched as he spoke. Whoever they were, whoever he had been talking about, it haunted him. You could see it in every movement, every flicker of emotion that he tried to bury.

“And were you?” you asked quietly.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at you over his shoulder. The look in his eyes was devastating, a storm of anger, confusion, and something deeper. Something broken.

“No.”

The word hung in the air, sharp and bitter.

He turned back toward you, walking closer this time, the weight of his presence almost suffocating. But there was no threat in his movements. It was as if the dangerous, relentless assassin was momentarily gone, replaced by someone… human.

“They took everything from me,” he continued, his voice low and raw. “Everything I was. Everything I loved. And now… I don’t even know who I am.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. You had come here prepared to fight a monster, an unstoppable force, but what you were facing now wasn’t that. It was a man, lost and shattered, desperately trying to find something—anything—that made sense in the chaos.

“Why are you telling me this?” you whispered.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something—a plea, perhaps, or a sliver of hope. “Because,” he said softly, “if you don’t get out of here now, if you don’t leave them behind, you’ll end up like me.”

You blinked, stunned by his words. The Winter Soldier, the ghost of a man you’d heard was incapable of mercy, was warning you. Not threatening, not manipulating—warning.

“You’re better off without them,” he repeated, his voice softer now, almost gentle. “But you need to leave. Now.”

Your heart pounded as you stared at him, trying to make sense of what was happening. But there was no time. You didn’t understand why, or how, but you knew this was your only chance. You nodded slowly, and he stepped aside, giving you a clear path to the door.

You stood, your legs trembling as you moved toward the exit. But before you left, you paused, turning to look at him one last time. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He didn’t respond, didn’t move. He just stood there, a shadow in the dark, watching as you disappeared into the night.

-

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

MARVEL PERM: @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @late-to-the-party-81 @capsthot @kenzieam @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

BUCKY BARNES: @nicoline1998enilocin @amelia-song-pond @hallecarey1 @libbymouse @fandom-princess-forevermore @animal-feather @your-wonderful-stargazer @saiilorstars @winterslove1917

[ajaxctrl]

On the therapy-psychiatry business in Hannibal

It puts me in a fit of contemplation whether or not Hannibal Lecter actually helped anyone with their emotional and mental proclivities.

Hannibal demonstrates extraordinary clinical acumen, which apparently coexists with psychopathy of satanic proportions. It's safe to say that during his imprisonment, he continued to write, publish, and receive positive reviews for his works. For good measure, during that time, psychiatry students and practicing physicians wrote to him with papers and theories for him to comment on.

He was regarded as one of the leading experts on the subject of addiction to plastic surgery and had a great deal of influence. Regarding his patients, I believe he was a threat to those who somehow piqued his interest and only marginally effective for those for whom he cared for.

But it's him who convinces the suicidal person to channel their thoughts toward killing others. It's him who counsels the individual struggling with inner demons to talk to them, be open with them, and hear what they have to say. Afterwards, they end up using lobotomy to create a human beehive or skinning someone and dressing them in a people suit.

By its very nature, therapy involves great vulnerability—sharing your deepest secrets with a professional who has studied mental health and psychology. Truly that Doctor Hannibal Lecter is on the bottom list of people you'd want to be vulnerable to.

The man is an exceptional psychiatrist in terms of skill after all, but definitely not the safest psychiatrist out there.

[ocrpfinder]

Hey!! I’m looking to do an oc rp using one of my muses, a troubled guy with a rough past, constantly gets into fights and sometimes makes money out of it in dingy boxing rings; he’s a big guy, rough and edgy looking, cold to others and struggles to connect with others. However, I want to pair him against a sweet, softer person!! Any pairing, male or female (but please, please no 4”7 stuttering smol beans), just someone who’s genuinely a brighter, bubbly, gentle person! I want my guy to be smitten with your muse - they’re the only one he opens up to, is gentle with, sees his vulnerable side, makes him borderline pathetic. I want their differences to clash, for my muse to try to be better for yours and show up at their door awkwardly with flowers, for your muse to tut and patch mine up after a fight and hold him while he sleeps. I want misunderstandings and arguments out of concern and care, for them to be sickly sweet together; I want angst of them dealing with problems together and them growing as people!! I’d like the muses to be around their mid 20s or so (open to older muses too, just no fresh faced 18-21 year olds lol). I’m open to heavier topics if they come up and my muse comes with some, but we can discuss limits too and I want to focus primarily on them growing! I’m open to smut, though I don’t rush it and plot>>>smut. I write on a server for us on discord, multi-para/advanced literate, can go up to novella for heavy moments and whatnot! I’m 21+ and would like my partner to be too!

.

[spadeprincesss]

I forget how to send asks so I hope this is the place

Who goes to who for advice or just to get things off their chest? Is there someone each wouldn’t go to for advice? Do they all go to Zelda? Like maybe blue wouldn’t go to Zelda for certain things/ all the time cuz idk maybe he wouldn’t want her to know he’s struggling with something? (even though we all know, she already knows when something’s up with her links)

This was sent in by @saltyskychild as a submission and idk how to answer other than editing so my answer below the cut!!!

Gonna start with a list of who goes to who for advice the most and the least!

Green:

Zelda - literally for everything, she knows all his secrets and he knows hers

Blue - to confide in, if he needs a shoulder to lean or cry on and Zelda isn’t available he knows Blue will have his back (and also beat up whatever made him upset)

Vio - for a practical response, he trust Vio and he knows that if he’s lost as to what to do then Vio will have an answer for him

Red - also for emotional support, but he can be a little reluctant because he hates that if he goes to vent and starts crying then Red will cry too and he hates making Red cry

Shadow - don’t get me wrong Green cares for Shadow a whole lot but he knows Shadow doesn’t understand his own feelings most of the time so he doesn’t want to burden Shadow with his own

Red:

Vio - Red often goes to Vio first to find a way to just rant without having to put his thoughts in order, Vio just lets him get it out before helping him sort it all out

Blue - Red LOVES Blue, but he hesitates to confide in him at times because he worries Blue will get a tad too protective and go straight to punching whoever made him sad. He IS Red’s first option when he needs optimal comfort though, like if he feels he needs a hug he will run to Blue (Blue gives the best hugs fight me)

Shadow - mostly to gossip LMFAO, Shadow also gives great hugs and always offers to kill anyone for him, Red has yet to take him up on the offer

Green - Red loves going to Green for comfort, he always listens intently and waits until he’s done to give him his input much like Vio does, Red just hates burdening him because Green is always so busy

Zelda - same as Green, hates burdening her but trusts her 100%, crying on her shoulder is a healing experience

Blue:

Red - Blue knows he can always go to Red, it’s always hard to get him to open up because of his pride but when he does open up it’s always to Red first. He knows Red would never judge him for being vulnerable so when it’s time to break down he only wants Red to see him

Green - Green is Blue’s closest friend, he trusts Green to always keep his secrets and give sound advice, but Green is also going to be his King soon and that makes him want to be even stronger so he can always keep Green safe from inevitable threats

Zelda - Blue has an immense respect for Zelda, as his friend, as a ruler, and as a person overall; he watched her rule her kingdom from a young age and keep the peace all six of them fought hard for. However as his queen he’s sworn loyalty to he tries not to bother her, keeps a respectable distance that Zelda herself tries to narrow

Vio - Blue and Vio’s relationship can seem complicated from an outsiders perspective, they poke and prod, they tease, but as they’ve grown and matured they’ve each learned when its ok to make fun and when you need to back off (it took a lot of trial and error throughout the years trust). Much like the others if Blue needs an answer to a question he will go to Vio, but it’s hard for him to open up emotionally to him because Vio always seems to kept together and he doesn’t want to fall behind

Shadow - to Blue Shadow is super fun to be around, they used to get into a lot of mischief together when they were younger and although they’ve matured a lot they find trouble one way or another. They’re both good friends, but Blue and Shadow are the masters of bottling things up so you won’t catch them having a heart to heart very often

Vio:

Shadow - the love of his life, Shadow knows things about Vio that Vio himself wishes weren’t true. Shadow sometimes understands what Vio needs before he even says it; and Vio doesn’t cry often but the times he has it’s been with Shadow there to put him back together

Red - Red is a great confidant, and Vio’s best friend, and although Vio considers himself the smartest in the group he knows Red has him beat in emotional intelligence, so when it’s his turn to be vulnerable (which he hates) Red helps him prepare for it

Zelda - Vio loves Zelda’s company, she’s smart and witty, yet completely honest with him; in Zelda’s rare free time they’ll sit and have tea together and talk about anything and everything. Vio would never admit it but Zelda is the funniest person he knows (he doesn’t want to hurt Shadow’s feelings)

Green - Vio trusts Green wholeheartedly, he’d put his life in Green’s hands in a heartbeat, but Vio doesn’t like how Green tends to hover so he hesitates to show any distress around him

Blue - as mentioned before Vio and Blue’s relationship is complicated, Vio doesn’t like showing vulnerability around Blue because he knows it makes Blue feel awkward seeing him as anything less than perfectly kept together. However not to say Blue wouldn’t be there for him, he would, they both would, but they try to keep strong in front of each other, it gives them a sense of normalcy and security they often need

Shadow:

Vio - just like it is vice versa, Vio often knows that Shadow is feeling down or overwhelmed before he himself knows, and although Shadow thought he would hate that he doesn’t. Vio is the one who taught him how to feel more than just anger and scorn, Vio gave him his first real laugh of joy, his first tears of sorrow and heartbreak, and even after all that Vio made up for it and taught him that he was able to feel all of that because he was in love. There’s no secrets between them

Zelda - to many people’s surprise Zelda is Shadow’s best friend, when he was first brought back he gravitated towards her, wanting to repay her for making him realize he wasn’t just a puppet of darkness but his own person. She took his emotions in stride and alongside Vio taught him so much about what he feels, so he confides everything to her

Red - Shadow and Red are very close, when Shadow needs a laugh or a smile he’ll rush to Red, he always has kind words for Shadow no matter what, confiding in his isn’t as easy as it is with Vio and Zelda but Red has always understood that and it helps put Shadow at ease. Again they gossip a lot together

Green - Shadow doesn’t go to Green often, much like Vio he doesn’t want him to overly worry and hover, but while he isn’t Shadow’s first option, he always brings a sense of belonging that means a lot to him

Blue - like mentioned earlier Shadow and Blue are masters if bottling things up, most of the time when Shadow goes to Blue it goes “hey this person made Red/Vio/Green/Zelda sad wanna go beat them up together?”

Zelda:

Green - that’s her soulmate, her other half; Green knows Zelda’s deepest fears and worries that she can’t allow herself to share with anyone else. He knows of her visions of the future and her past lives, of how much past wars haunt her, and he holds her through it all, when he proposed he promised to always keep her and her people safe, he would always be a hero worthy of her

Shadow - Zelda loves Shadow, you’d think she’d be scared of him given he was once her kidnapper, but as she’s always said “I wasn’t scared of you then and I’m not scared of you now”. Shadow is only slightly disappointed, but loves how she’ll ask for him when she’s overwhelmed, saying she needs someone who won’t try to sugarcoat anything from her. Zelda knows Shadow would move mountains for her and she would do the same

Vio - Zelda made Vio one of her advisors early on, she values not only his practical knowledge but his resourcefulness as well, they’ve spent many a late night pouring over documents together and its led to deep conversations. Vio takes as much workload off her shoulders as he legally can and she in turn forces him to take breaks

Red - Red is the little brother Zelda always wanted, as a single child who had to grow up too fast having someone so kind and fun to be around is something she cherishes so deeply. When she needs a hug she’ll seek him out, she knows she’ll always leave an encounter with Red with a smile on her face

Blue - Zelda knows she can trust all her boys with her life, and Blue is no exception, they don’t often confide in each other, but let’s just say that after a certain encounter that leaves Green in a terrible state Zelda learns Blue is not as cold hearted as she feared he was, and she’s made an effort to break down his walls. No knight should have to face monsters on their own, wether they be external or internal

So long story short these six idiots all love each other, but as you could have guessed they have certain people they go to for certain worries/situations. I can’t wait to share more on their relationships with one another!

[theresstillgrowinghere]

The way Lu’s lip catches when Esti hugs her gets me every time

It’s so vulnerable, so tender. Esti’s hug so heartfelt and immediately impulsive that Lupe doesn’t have time to retreat back into herself, compose herself again into the steeled version of herself that the world demands of her, that she relies on for protection

There she is baring a deeply wounded part of herself, with her guard much lower than usual, and Esti’s hug holds her there - in the aching, tender vulnerability. Esti loves her for opening, sharing, being emotional and imperfect and bruised. Things that the world doesn’t often allow for Lupe. Things that hinder her success and her well-being, threaten her safety. But things that, when she offers them to Esti, she gets back warmth and love and acceptance

And that reaction seems deeply meaningful to Lu when she doesn’t immediately rid the emotion from her expression, doesn’t compose herself as soon as she can, doesn’t retreat. She stays in that vulnerability and just for a moment lets herself be loved

[kindnessoverperfection]

Please, if you can, take a moment to read and share this because I feel like I'm screaming underwater.

NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) stigma is rampant right now, and seems to be getting progressively worse. Everyone is using it as a buzzword in the worst ways possible, spreading misinformation and hatred against a real disorder.

I could go on a long time about how this happened, why it's factually incorrect (and what the disorder actually IS), why it's harmful, and the changes I'd like to see. But to keep this concise, I'll simply link to a few posts under the cut for further reading.

The point of this post is a plea. Please help stop the spread of stigma. Even in mental health communities, even around others with personality disorders, in neurodivergent "safe" spaces, other communities I thought people would be supportive in (e.g. trans support groups, progressive spaces in general), it keeps coming up. So I'm willing to bet that a lot of people on this site need to see this.

Because it's so hard to exist in this world.

My disorder already makes me feel as if I'm worthless and unlovable, like there's something inherently wrong and damaged about me. And it's so much harder to fight that and heal when my daily life consists of:

Laughing and spending time with my friends, doing my utmost best to connect and stay present and focused on them, trying to let my guards down and be real and believe I'm lovable- when suddenly they throw out the word "narcissist" to describe horrible people or someone they hate, or the conversation turns to how evil "people with narcissistic personality disorder" are. (Seriously, you don't know which of your friends might have NPD and feels like shit when you say those things & now knows that you'd hate them if you knew.)

Trying to look up "mental health positivity for people with npd", "mental health positivity cluster bs", only to find a) none of that, and b) more of the same old vile shit that makes me feel terrible about myself.

Having a hard time (which is constant at this point) and trying to look up resources for myself, only to again, find the same stigma. And no resources.

Not having any clue how to help myself, because even the mental health field is spitting so much vitriol at people with DISORDERS (who they're supposed to be helping!) that there's no solid research or therapy programs for people like me.

Losing close friends when they find out, despite us having had a good relationship before, and them KNOWING me and knowing that I'm not like the trending image of pwNPD. Because now they only see me through the lens of stigma and misinformation.

Hearing the same stigma come up literally wherever I go. Clubs. Meetings. Any online space. At the bus stop. At the mall. At a restaurant. At work. Buzzword of the year that everyone loooves loudly throwing around with their friends or over the phone. Feels awesome for me, makes my day so much better/s

I could go on for a long time, but I'm scared no one will read/rb this if it gets too much longer.

So please. Stop using the word "narcissist" as a synonym for "abusive".

Stop bringing up people you hate who you believe to have NPD because of a stigmatizing article full of misinformation whenever someone with actual NPD opens their mouth. (Imagine if people did that with any other disorder! "Hey, I'm autistic." "Oh... my old roommate screamed at me whenever I made noise around him, and didn't understand my needs, which seems like sensory overload and difficulty with social cues. He was definitely autistic. But as long as you're self-aware and always restraining your innate desire to be an abusive asshole, you're okay I guess, maybe." ...See how offensive and ignorant that is?)

Stop preventing healthcare for people with a disorder just because it's trendy to use us as a scapegoat.

If you got this far, thank you for reading, and please share this if you can. Further reading is under the cut.

NPD Criteria, re-written by someone who actually has NPD

Stigma in the DSM

Common perception of the DSM criteria vs how someone may actually experience them (Keep in mind that this is the way I personally experience these symptoms, and that presentation can vary a lot between individuals)

"Idk, the stigma is right though, because I've known a lot of people with NPD who are jerks, so I'm going to continue to support the blockage of treatment for this condition."

(All of these were written by me, because I didn't want to link to other folks' posts without permission, but if you want to add your own links in reblogs or replies please feel free <3)

[lord-squiggletits]

With all due respect IDW Megatron is the kind of dad that would go out to get cigarettes and then never see his kids again considering that's what he did to all of the Decepticons leaving on the Lost Light + he groomed Tarn into worshipping him as a mentor/authority figure and then basically stopped caring about him.

[fun-esta]

[mister13eyond]

talking to a friend about getting back into art and i think the #1 most important piece of art advice i could ever get or give is just "figure out what is FUN to you"

like i think there is sooooo much emphasis on how to build SKILL in art but a lot of it really treats art like a job or like video game grinding, like it's this thankless job that you have to work at in order to reach a Threshold and i know it's not EASY to make yourself have fun but like

imo a solid 70% of the reason i create art is because the Act of Drawing is fun to me. it's fun problem-solving and planning and putting down lines and playing with colors and tools. it's fun to depict little scenes in my head or to create outfits or to find ways to fill the canvas. never forget that creating can be fun. sometimes it's hard and sometimes you have to battle through your own blockades to get there but the ultimate goal should always be to ENJOY it, to find what you enjoy doing and then do it forever. improvement will follow enjoyment.

i think especially with all the debate about ML image generation it's more important than ever to embrace FUN. if you're only focused on the end result it's so easy to get in your own head- to think about what doesn't look good or what skills you don't have yet or to compare yourself to other artists. but photography didn't kill the art of drawing and AI won't either because, simply put, there will always be people who want to do the physical act of making art because it's fun to do! using paints and markers, splashing colors around, doing shitty pen doodles, using the symmetry tool in your art program to do abstract mandalas that are just squiggles formed into patterns. do art like you're 5 and you've been handed markers to pass the time. do art like you're bored in class and you're keeping your brain entertained by drawing stick figure comics in the margins. do art like an absent thing, do art because it satisfies your brain. the goal is not to make something beautiful and perfect, the goal is to make something because your hands need to make and your body needs to make.